


When history becomes bedtime stories

by TFALokiwriter



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alien Species, Cardassians, Character Development, Dratch, Emergency Medical Hologram - Freeform, Future Fic, Gen, Hope, Hybrids, One of them is protective, Siblings, Starbase 1, Thermians, Vulcans, Xelayans, starships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 15:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12111447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFALokiwriter/pseuds/TFALokiwriter
Summary: It has been thousands of years since The United Federation of Planets fell apart and Star Fleet became dismantled. Star Fleet has all but became a series of bed time stories carried down from grandparent to parent, parent to child, and child to child. The message has not been lost in the face of how space has changed. And it is needed now more than ever.





	1. Chapter 1

"Jim, ya think people would remember all this?"

"This?" the admiral looked over the sweeping scenery full of flowers peaking above on a elevated mound allowing the sight of Vulcans and defected Cardassians to be seen building with a few humans making fences for the yards.  "I like to think so. Some of it. . . ." he looked over toward their security officer who had survived the ordeal. "Commander Alvaria, don't you agree people will learn from this?"

"Yes, sir," Alvaria replied. "I think they would."

"Meh," McCoy said, rolling an eye. "I got an offer last week to be modeled as a hologram."

"Congratulations, Bones!" Kirk said, clasping a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Hold ya horses," McCoy said. "It is hypothetical. Stardate 2294. . ." Kirk was beaming at the man giving him proud, delighted heart eyes. "highly unlikely."

Spock came from the distance holding what seemed to be a lute in his arms. Kirk held his two fingers out for the Vulcan, a gesture that was returned, as the Vulcan turned his attention on to the southern CMO once joining to the admiral's side.

"It is highly likely, doctor," Spock replied.

"Never goin' to happen," McCoy replied. "If anythin', they won't remember me right. Personify it as a grumpy hologram. I don't want to be remembered as that!"

"I will make sure that it will be correct," Spock said, while Kirk was looking at his bondmate lovingly.

"Hmph," McCoy said. "I just feel ya goin' to say that I am annoyin'."

"Not true," Spock protested. "You are a very complex yet static character."

"They will remember you for centuries, Bones," Kirk said.

"Centuries, yes," McCoy said. "correctly portrayed? I am goin' to decline their asses off."

Kirk laughed then lightly tapped on the comn badge.

"Four to beam up, Scotty," Kirk said.

"Aye aye, Captain," Scott's voice came over. "beamin' up."

The four people vanished in a blazing haze.

* * *

_"The day began like any other," an aged Alvaria  started to tell his daughter. "on the  USS Enterprise  A. . ."_

_"The bridge was alive like any other day."_

_"Captain Kirk was in his chair."_

_"Reading a report."_

_"It was a padd."_

_"It was long and square."_

_"The stardate was 2269.21."_

_"Spock was across from him."_

_"Doctor McCoy came over to his side."_

_"'Jim, I heard ya accepted the second five year mission offer.' McCoy said."_

_"The captain  smiled back at the doctor."_

_"'I did," Kirk replied.'"_

_"He looked over in the direction of his first officer."_

_"His officer was dressed in the new outfit being sent into Star Fleet."_

_"It was blue."_

_~_

_"No wait, it was green."_

_"Blue would have not have blended in with his skin."_

_~_

_"His shirt was the sky of Terra."_

_"His pants were long and black."_

_"His boots were shiny and  black."_

_"Just as night on Vulcan."_

_~_

_"You said there was no moon in the salt vampire story."_

_"Then how is there night?"_

_"T'Khut. It's a neighboring sister planet."_

_~_

_"'And so did he,' Kirk added."_

_"'Assumed that much,' McCoy replied."_

_"'You?' Kirk asked."_

_"'I will be mullin' that over," McCoy said. 'maybe.'"_

_"'I would not expect less,' Kirk replied."_

_"Uhura turned from her station with one hand on the communications device in her ear."_

_"'Captain," Uhura said. "we are being hailed."_

_"The captain looked over toward the Vulcan as the southern man was leaned against the chair."_

_"'On screen,' the captain said."_

_"On the screen appeared  a alien individual."_

_"They were a Trill. Dots lining around their face."_

_"A birthmark, large, laid on the side of the face."_

_"It was in the shape of a star."_

_~_

_"Daddy said it was a butterfly."_

_"It's indistinquishable.  It looks like a star. Sort of. My grandfather told me that."_

_"What did your father say it was?"_

_"Turd."_

_"So it was turd."_

_"No, it wasn't. It looked nothing like turd."_

_"But how do you know it when you---"_

_"It was a star."_

_"Why a star?"_

_"The story would be lost if the details were changed."_

_~_

_"We are in need of your help."_

There were two odd, unique children resting in bed.

"Daaaad, continue!" the little girl in bed plead. Her curly locks of hair flickering from side to side.

"Sorry, the rest of the story is kind of . . . cracky," the father leaned back with his hands cupped together.

"DAAAAaaaad!" the little girl protested.

"What?" the father asked. "It is."

"Father, finish the story so I can go back to sleep." the older boy said.

"All right. Garen. . but it's more of a two parter," the father said.

"A two nighter?"  Garen said.

"Uh huh," the father said.

"Were any of those stories real?" Garen said.

"At one time they were real," the father said. A glint went off in the Cardassian-Vulcan's right eye. "I like to think they were."

"That's cool," Garen said. "Teres, wouldn't it be cool to be in a starship?"

"It would!" Teres said. "Go on."

"As I was about to continue. . ." the father said. "One day, you might actually be on a bridge. It'll probably be better than bedtime stories," A wide smile grew on  Teres's face. "Now where was I. " as the scene grew darker and darker while the scene panned away from the dim lit room. "oh right, they were in need of help."

* * *

 "Teres!" The shout was loud, while a bulky figure exited the turbolift, as the small ship was stricken. The bulky figure was shaken to the side clenching onto a panel feeling the ground tremble beneath him.  He had a Klingon-Cardassian like appearance with forehead ridges connecting to the ridges around his brown face. He lacked hair, which was odd for both species, showing the Klingon characteristic trailing down to the back of his neck that went on connecting to the spine. The room was glowing a shade of gentle red. "We are not going to make it!"

"We _are_ going to make it," Teres replied. 

"Don't worry," T'Karen, their Klingon-Vulcan travel companion, said. "once we get to warp factor five, we'll be out of here."

"Teres!" Garen shouted. "Did you hear a word she said?"

"Warp factor. . " Teres repeated, looking over toward the other with curiosity in her eyes.

"Five!" T'Karen said.

"But that's dangerous!" Garen slid into the seat across from the stranger. "I don't know what it is but it sounds dangerous!"

"You chose danger coming on this trip, Mr Garen," T'Karen replied. T'Karen's black fingers flew on the panel setting in numerous calculations off the whim. "hold on tight!" The ship took evasive glides to evade the firing from Bird-of-prey.

"Perhaps there is a good reason to not go in warp five," Garen replied, dryly.

"You think we've been going in warp power at all?" T'Karen asked. Garen nodded as did Teres. The ship trembled from side to side once being hit. "We've been going on impulse power, kids."

"What?" Teres said.

"But you said we were going at warp factor one when we started leaving," Garen pointed out. T'Karen looked over toward the Klingon-Cardassian wearing a long, wide thin smile.

"I lied," T'Karen said. 

T'Karen pulled the leveler forward sliding it into warp factor five with ease. The ship jump warp  leaping out of the field of space sailing through a warp bubble. There was a collective breath of relief on the bridge. Teres leaned forward on the panel sprawling her arms on the surface with the side of her face pressed against it. Teres was a Cardassian-Vulcan hybrid with a unique hair style seemed to be a textbook  case of a hybrid. The view screen vanished from the wall being replaced by a series of bars that had a unique design to them being stored in pairs in front of the stations.

"Does this ship have weapons of any weapons?" Teres asked.

"Yeah," Garen said. "You failed to mention if it has self-defense capabilities."

"Of course it does," T'Karen said.

"You should have mentioned that earlier!" Garen said.

"How does it work?" Teres asked.

T'Karen turned from her station.

"Well," T'Karen said. "This is a older model."

"Older model," Teres repeated.

"Made in the late 2390's," T'Karen said.  "at least that's what it's plague says," T'Karen got up from the station then walked over toward a station that had a rounded sentry like post. She came around the rounded structure coming into it. She tapped lightly on the screen lowering the red alert down until the bright lighting replaced it. "You should really give learning the ancient Terran text. Technology here is quite . . . more advanced compared to the 'sailing skyships' you ride."

"Those orbital sailers are the best of their kind," Teres replied.

"And they are fun to use," Garen said.

"No wonder Cardassian hybrids are so content with their Cardassia," T'Karen said. "you just like not going out there and living. Surfing the wind is not living," she came around the fort like structure then leaned against it. "you have heard the stories of star fleet? Deep Space Nine? Star Fleet Command?"

"Yes," Garen said. "they are just stories. Fictional, not remotely real, I've heard countless stories where they faced god and lived to tell about it."

"They are not fictional," Teres said. "All stories are based on something that had happened. It is simply illogical to make up the story that a human would risk their career to retrieve their partner's soul and then their body to perform Fal-tor-pan. It is a feat that cannot be made up. It is pointless. And if it were made up, it would be discouraging."

"That's a old Vulcan wives tale," Garen said. "and the chances of Fal-tor-pan being successful. . ."

"When did you stop believing in stories?" Teres asked, startled.

"Chasing after them, on the other hand, when they can get you killed," Garen said. "Mind gets changed rather fast."

"Garen," Teres said. "nobody knew that Cardassia had security for antiques."

"Karen did," Garen said, directing his attention toward the taller hybrid.

"What if I was able to show you, prove to you, that all those stories are true?" T'Karen said.

"You tempted us with that offer," Garen stepped forward from the front 'u' shaped station. Teres stood in the way placing a hand on the much shorter man's chest. "We could have gotten killed! My sister could have been killed!"

T'Karen smiled, widely then it faded. She came over to a panel behind the security station.

"Hold on," T'Karen said. "I installed this shortly before the escape," her finger flew on the flat, glowing blue screen.  The room grew dark then it was highlighted by a hologram. A entirely three dimensional version that showed the design of Starbase one. She turned toward the light, confident, and hopeful. "you see, children, all those stories are true."

"What in the name of Kahless is this?" Garen said, in awe.

"It's starbase one," Teres said, stepping forward with awe in her eyes. "It looks beautiful."

"I got this from a Ferengi." came the reply.

"A Ferengi?" Teres repeated.

"Do they really have big ears?" Garen asked.

"The ones that are really short compared to most people?" Teres asked.

"The business civilization?" Garen added.

"Yes, they do," T'Karen said. The siblings were in shock, unable to speak, at the validation of the stories about the Ferengi. What else was true? They  had taken several description of the aliens with a grain of salt  "Several golden bars had to do. Black market is quite the place to explore in," she stepped forward then zoomed into a section. "The proof that all those stories are true lay in there. The stories I heard say that it is heavily protected by Vulcans. Which is funny enough when they normally don't attack others to defend historical sites," she sounded amused by the remark. "if we can pass as verified archeological inspectors then they'll let us through. Vulcans are quite protective over history."

"Vulcans?" Teres said. "You mean to say they are not all gone? That. . ." Teres was at a loss of words. "That the Vulcan culture still exists?"

"What are you asking?" T'Karen asked, raising a thick slanted eyebrow. "Of course, Vulcan society still functions. Despite Vulcans straying away from the homeworlds due to limits of city growth. . . they are still passionate scientists down there. A bit stoic at best," she shrugged. "I just do not recommend going down there without a universal translator. They haven't heard  the distorted language you speak in. Not many Vulcans know it."

Teres turned away coming over to the station, getting a grip over herself.

"Sister?" Garen asked, placing a hand on the slim shouldered woman.

"I am fine," Teres said. "I am feeling very emotional. That is all."

"Here I thought Terran Standard was a dead language all this time," Garen said.

"There are billions of people who will disagree with you," T'Karen said. "The only way we're talking is because of this." T'Karen took out the comn badge with the logo on top. It had a series of four bars behind it. The two turned toward the woman to finally notice the comn badge. "Still circulated through Vulcan's shaky alliance with _some_ nearby neighbors." she put it back onto her chest.

"Holy sweetcakes,"  Teres said.

"There is a bathroom up ahead on the bridge, unfortunately it's only men's because it was made for a all male civilization. Didn't really get along with women. It used to be a passenger vessel." T'Karen stepped forward closer toward the holographic figure hovering in the middle of the bridge. She stretched her left hand out then curled three of her fingers against her palm leaving out her index and thumb. She pressed them together making the view zoom in. "I feel like you should see the ships inside the starbase. All of them. The USS Challenger, USS Enterprise, and Exclesior to name a few. . ." the siblings had widened eyes. "I do this all the time visiting space stations."

"What are they like?" Teres asked.

"It is remarkable," T'Karen said. "actually. . ." her head turned toward the Cardassian-Vulcan. "you expect someone to turn the corner and no one actually does."

"So they are haunted," Garen said, finally as he took his hand off his sisters shoulder.

"Yes," T'Karen said. "It is only the ghosts of the officers who served on them that inhabit the space stations. Think you hear voices. See figures that are not there. Lights going out and coming back on. You feel cold when the temperature is set above it. . ." she paused, looking back, at her fond memories. "You feel like the past is crawling back into the present. The sounds of the past, and it feels like a distant background noise," she cleared her throat. "Star base 1 is what I never been in. And I will be damned not taking people interested in history."

"I bet they won't be haunted by the time they become tourist attractions," Garen said

"Maybe and maybe not," T'Karen said. "I'll return you afterwards, safe and sound, back on your home planet. No one will ever know you helped me steal a starship out of the shipyards. Not to be confused with the ones in San Fransisco."

"I thought their ships were destroyed," Teres said. 

"Well, the ones that had been recovered, were either recycled or hidden from the general public by the Vulcans to preserve history," T'Karen replied. "some of them might have been destroyed. I can't guarantee you that _a_ Enterprise is in there. The chances are slim."

"It doesn't matter,"  Teres said, shaking her head. "Any ship will do. Anything to prove that we once worked together to explore space in peace," she looked at the screen in awe. Her brother looked over in concern toward his younger sister. There was hope on her face.  "how do we get into the starbase, Mrs Karen?" she looked curious at the large part of the starbase designs. "It must be difficult."

T'Karen observed the floating hologram.

"I haven't figured that out," T'Karen said. "I will have it figured out by the time we drop out of warp."

"This is beyond words with what I am feeling," Teres said, as Garen narrowed his eyes.

"You didn't look at this holoprogram yourself before getting us," Garen said. "Didn't you? There must be a reason why you asked us to come along on something that she could do alone," Garen was suspicious eying at the woman. "Not just for proving that thing. . ." he gestured toward the hologram. "is part of our natural history."

"I could have done this alone," T'Karen admitted. 

"But?" Garen said.

"I like having company for breaching into a archeological site illegally," T'Karen said.

"It's illegal!" Garen threw his arms up turning away.

"Brother," Teres started. "we all have to do things we don't like to get things done."

"Star Fleet never approved of that," Garen said.

"Captain Sisko did," Teres said, her hand on her brother's shoulder. "remember the Bell riots?"

"Yes," Garen said. The two faced the woman once more.

"Always nice for a change." the two siblings shared a glance then shared a nod in agreement with what she said. She looked back toward the siblings. "fire away your questions."

"If you are Vulcan then why do you have a human name?" Teres asked.

"Karen means pure in Terran," T'Karen said, coming over to the station across from the levitating hologram.

"That is a lovely name," Teres said.

"I will check how much damage this ship has taken after arriving at the starbase," Teres slowly approached the woman. "I admit, taking along history nerd Cardassian hybrids was not on the top of my list. .  ." Garen placed a hand on his sister's shoulder stopping her from invading the taller woman's personal space. "Your lecture was quite informative."

"Thank you," Garen said. "we will be be taking pictures of the decks. And find the space suits."

"Go do that," T'Karen said, checking the damage report highlighted on the bright blue screen. "you'll have more fun than I will."

"Ladies first," Garen said, gesturing toward the turbo lift.

"Brother, you have a cut on your hand!" Teres said, upon noticing the man's bleeding hand.

"I'll take care of that later," Garen said. "Just a scratch, sis."

"Come on," Teres said. "we are finding the hospital bay."

"For history nerds, you seem to forget their original name was sick bay," T'Karen remarked, loudly, as Teres tugged the rather short man behind her toward the turbo lift. T'Karen finally noticed that Teres had a short tail that was curled had short spikes  on the top that were longer than the ones on her brother's tail. Garen's tail was just as short as Teres's. The doors closed behind the siblings. "Siblings."

Teres looked up.

"Deck five." Teres said.

The turbo lift gently went down with a light hum.

* * *

"Maybe being historians volunteers wasn't the best idea after all," Garen said. "far from home . . "

"You're just scared that we'll get lost in this hall," Teres said.

"I have every right to be worried since we have been going in circles for the past hour," Garen replied.

"We're not going in circles," Teres said.

"Look down," Garen said.

Teres looked down.

"My scrunchy!" Teres exclaimed, then picked it up. 

"I dropped that on our second walk," Garen said.

". . . Brother," Teres glared at her sibling.

"Why don't we use the panels on the side to see the path to find sick bay?" Garen asked.

The words 'sick bay' sounded alien to come coming off his tongue. It made the reality of going through space in a starship even more real and happening. The siblings had stopped in their tracks. The halls were a bright shade of gray. There were some windows dotting around the walls with panels in between them. These panels were long, light blue screens with the shape of the starship. The siblings came over to the screens. Teres took out her medium sized padd then held it before the screen. The camera mode was on displaying the usual white little light in the back indicating the video mode was on. Garen tapped lightly on the screen. The screen changed to the schematics of the starship  that was outlined in a brighter shade of blue. The two siblings shared a glance then looked over with confusion toward the screen.

"It doesn't have identification marks for which room is which," Teres said.

"This makes me wish they specified where specific rooms were in the stories," Garen said. "A part of me can't believe they didn't bother to give directions."

"They probably did," Teres said. "people forget directions. They don't forget the basic gist of the story."

"Thousands of years old . . . huh. . . not even accurate," Garen said. "Maybe slightly accurate. Hell, my hand is healing on its own, I don't need to go to sick bay anyway."

"If you do not get your hand treated then it will get infected, get amputated, then you will whine about it constantly," Teres said, tapping lightly on the screen on a small, rectangle button with bars beside it. "I need directions to sick bay." There was silence as the siblings stood there waiting for a reply. They exchanged glances toward one another then back on the screen. "I believe this is not the right button."

"I wouldn't whine about it," Garen protested, abruptly. 

"You are more like father when it comes to losing things," Teres said. "You will whine about the loss of your hand. You do not need that."

Teres pressed another button that made a search screen appear. Her fingers flew on the screen typing in her native language. She tapped lightly on the arrow that had a bent line. Unfamiliar text appeared beneath it. The siblings stared at it, dumbfounded, at the words. The words, themselves, were big and large. Clear and precise, however, they did not understand the words. There were two big words that were on the screen. They stared at it trying to figure out what it meant.  Garen folded his arms, with a disappointed sigh, at the screen. Teres pressed lightly on the screen getting random schematics of each room.  The screen changed with each swipe of the finger. Garen watched his sister record more of the screen until all of the parts of the screen had been thoroughly recorded including the map. She put her padd away into her pocket.

"Uh, we should learn to read Terran," Garen said.

"Yes," Teres said. "we should."

"I am not going to ask a burglar for help," Garen said.

"It would make sense if we learned together," Teres said. "On the way there. . . after we treat your hand. . . What did you get your hand cut against anyway?"

"Ehhh. . . I was in this security room," Garen said. "maybe it was weapon city central. Don't know. Had a lot of weapons."

"Oh, I can see where you got hurt now," Teres said. "the attack made you get hurt."

"Shamefully as I like to admit," Garen said. "yes, it did."

"Big baby," Teres said, teasingly. "come on, let's find a room to disinfect your hand."

The siblings took a turn going down the hall.

They can see the doorways that were closed. Some of them were open leading to another hall. Teres went into a quarters with her hand on her brothers wrist. The doors smoothly shut behind them. The room looked comfy and cozy. The room was dark. There were strings of light hurrying past the starship. It felt homely with its welcoming appearance. Garen looked around, curious, seeing the advanced living room aesthetic.  The room had been designed uniquely to fit the needs of someone who did not need to leave a mark of themselves behind. It was like a rogue vessel normally used by civilians. Or another group of the kind. Teres let go of her brothers wrist looking round the room. Garen seemed to be intrigued walking past Teres. He saw a collection of books on a bookshelf. He took a thick novel out then opened it and flipped through the pages. Pages he couldn't read. He put the novel back into the shelf. Garen tripped and fell over with a loud yelp. Teres came over toward her brother's side.

"Are you all right?" Teres asked, helping her brother up.

"My knees hurt," Garen said. "I didn't look where I was going."

"That's just typical of your clumsiness," Teres said. "You know, if the lights were one hundred percent on, forcing you to look around, you would be able to see where were you going."

"I like having eyesight," Garen said.

"And I like you not getting hurt over your stubborness," Teres said.

"Look!" Garen said.  The room slowly began to light up revealing the quarters true color.

The walls were a shade of pink from the couch to the rug to the tables but the floor was a shade of maroon. Maroon blended in wonderfully with the aesthetic. Teres looked in awe. Teres came over to the couch that had sparkling pink pillows covered by what seemed to be glitter except it was not. She picked it up and smelled it. It smelled, different, unique, something she never smelled before. Garen saw that he had tripped over a recliner leg rest. He walked around the living room observing it. The color seemed to be bouncing right off. It was very bright in here, too bright, even for a hybrid. Teres bumped into a table when the lights was at 100%. Garen hit the wall then landed to the floor with a thud.

"Uh, whoever is there, lights off," Garen said. The  brightness of the room faded away.

"It's the computer," Teres said, feeling her way from the living room. "every ship has a computer. Computer, turn voice on."

"Voice activated," came a female voice.

"It's true," Garen said, using the wall as his support to get up. He was able to see while his sister could not. "they did use women voices for starships."

"That is quite progressive," Teres said, in intrigue. "now. .  ." she turned toward her brother. "let's find that bathroom. Now shall we?"

"Reptiles are nocturnal, and so are we, so don't have the lights that high," Garen said. "might make you blind."

"I will gladly accept blindness in exchange to see the true character of starships," Teres said, walking toward the window.

"Hey!" Garen said. "You have eyes for a _reason_."

"Ooops," Teres turned herself away from the window attempting to move away. "I miscalculated where I was going."

"Let's look on the bright side," Garen said. "they do have. . . what do they call it? Star glasses?"

"Sun glasses," Teres corrected, finding her way toward the bedroom doorway across from the living room section. "this may lead to the bedroom."

Garen can see the hint of soft, darker shade of pink about the apartment as he followed after his sister. She was his little sister, and, his primary responsibility. Their father had charged him with ensuring that she was able to start a family of her own, and finding the one person in her life that would have her back before being hauled away. The one that Garen could believe that she would be better of with. It had to be someone that she would like. A part of him had a growing suspicion regarding one of her likes that was growing and growing. In a way, it was forgivable. Mainly because she was the one drawn toward their guide. In fact, Teres was drawn over to T'Karen at a pub. The way she described it sounded like a mystical power or some supernatural force had taken hold. Which it was nothing  of the sort, it was plain old magnetic attraction.

A part of Garen didn't want to believe that his sister's other half was a---  
  
"I believe I have found the disinfector," Teres brought the man out of his train of thought.  
  
"All ready?" Garen said, looking over to see his sister leaning against the doorway holding a cone shaped object with a lid.  
  
"Indeed," Teres said, handing it to the man. "theoretically, this could help."  
  
"That looks like hair rather than a image of a cut," Garen remarked, looking down at the image. He looked over toward his sister. "actually, sister, this _could_ be a anti-beard cream."  
  
"Anti-beard cream?" Teres repeated, startled by the remark.  She looked down toward the unreadable text. She saw the image that indicated that the face was being rubbed not a injury. She looked up toward her brother apologetically. "My bad."

"I will go in and find the disinfector," Garen said, then he brushed past his sister.

Teres followed her brother into the bathroom.

"And I will put this away," Teres remarked.

"Wow. . ." Garen said, in awe. "The stories were right. . . they were more advanced than we are."

"They were," Teres said, coming to her brother's side. "the bathroom is different from the ones on our homeworld."

"Star Fleet had a very good taste in making a simple bathroom high tech," Garen replied.

"Our designers should really take note on that," Teres remarked, straying away from her brother.

There was a shower container but there were was no shower head. There was also a sink across from the shower that was oddly designed remarkably lacking two items to change the temperature of the water. The sink itself was made of metal, silver, as was the structure it rested inside. There was no hand-dryer seen attached on the wall. Garen opened the drawers searching for band-aids to find a collection of them. The image of a flat, three pieced stickable object covering a wound was apparently universal. Teres placed the anti-beard cream into the drawer that she had taken it out then left to continue observing the quarters. Garen placed his hand under the short, wide square addition to the sink. The blood oozing on the side of his hand was dripping. The blood and all the filth his hands had gathered was vibrated off replaced by a warm, drying force against his hand. He looked over to see the rounded window revealing space. People loved space back then, and his sister certainly was enchanted by it. Speaking of his sister, Teres was gazing around the scenery. Her hands drifting on the table tops, the back rests of the chair, and she came over to the closet. Her secondary eyelid lifted off. She lightly tapped on it.

The closet doors opened to reveal a series of uniforms. Her eyes widened briefly then she reached out to feel the fabric. It was soft, and fine. Warm, even. She felt along the sleeve then took it out of the closet. She placed two of the uniforms on the bed. It was a red jacket with a black shirt underneath, the well taken care of pant legs stood out, and the light gray comn badge resting on the chest. There was a dark gray bar at the center right above the chest pausing mid-way at both sides for the zipper. Teres was unable to move as her mind went back to the bed-time stories that her father had told during her childhood. The very descriptive ones. Her brother exited the restroom with a band-aid on the side of his hand. Garen stopped in his tracks staring at the sight. He joined to the woman's side. There was silence as it slowly dawned on them.  The two siblings exchanged a glance toward each other then back toward the uniform. 

"It's real," Garen said. "all those stories. They really happened."

"All those stories where they lost red shirts, yellow shirts, and blue shirts. . . " Teres was unable to finish the thought. They were unable to find the words to speak at the fact that every story they heard of star fleet and its officers. It was simply remarkable. Teres cleared her throat. "they died the way they did." the words came out emotionally from the Cardassian-Vulcan. She looked over toward her brother regaining her composure allowing herself to let the feelings flow through her body, acceptingly, yet controlling them at the same time. "What now?"

"What is the motto of our historical organization?" Garen asked.

"We search, discover, record, and share the knowledge," Teres said.

"As much as I like to be in the uniform. . ." Garen said. "Star Fleet regulations say that impersonating a star fleet officer earns five years in a penal colony," his sister faced toward the uniforms. "But there is no Star Fleet to enforce these regulations. "

"I will look for a blue one," Teres picked up one of uniforms then put them back into the closet.

"Why blue?" Garen asked.

"Because history is part of science," Teres said.  "You would make a excellent red shirt," she gestured toward the shirt that Garen was holding over his chest.  "Which happens to be your size."

"Coincidence," Garen said. "they had a lot of officers with broad shoulders."

"Far likely," Teres said.  
  
"Teres. . ." Garen said. "You are not emoting as usual."  
  
 "I am half Vulcan," Teres reminded.  
  
"And half Cardassian," Garen said.  
  
 "It explains why I nearly died many times being highly emotional," Teres said. "I am controlling my emotions."  
  
"And how's that going?" Garen asked.

"I have done this per father's instructions in public since childhood," Teres said. 

"The only reason he gave them to you was because you were a wild child,"  Garen said.

Tares shot back her middle finger vanishing out of her siblings line of sight. She walked down the long, windy corridor. She abruptly took a turn toward the left going into a dark room decorated in green. The green sparkled contrasting against the eye friendly lighting. She took another turn into the bedroom. Their father would be amazed to see what they had been brought into. He would be at a loss for words. It was a shame that he was not here to see it. Being put into prison for tax evasion was a unfortunate fact of life. And he seemed to be enjoying prison life. He was a pretty happy man. She came over toward the closet, lightly tapped on the wall, and watched the doors open to reveal it was a yellow uniform. Teres sighed, then repeated the process three more times. She slipped out of the colorful bright blue two piece outfit, then the pitch black onesie.

She held the outfit to her chest.

A size too small for her liking.

She came over to a machine.

A machine that resembled a singer.

One of those singers stitch machine installed into a wall.

Just without the needle additions and had a panel of numbers.

She couldn't read what was on the screen.

"Damn it,"  Teres rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand on her hips.

She came over to the machine trailing her fingers onto the screen.

"Let's see if that uniform replicator is a real thing," Teres remarked, grazing her fingers on the screen.

She found a button that had the shape of a body, miniature, laid sideways, outlined in glow in the dark green. She lightly pressed it. A sea of blue light emitted from the machinery scanning the woman's body. The light emitted back into the singer. On the flat surface appeared a set of warm, freshly outfit. She moved the attire that she had taken out back into the closet on the hanger. She slid on the outfit on but stopping at the neck section. After all, it was the custom of the neck ridged people to have their necks unexposed when they were available. Shoulders were more sensitive than most  interbred species on their planet. In fact, being chased by starship acquisition security rather than the whole planetary defense force was a stroke of luck. How many levels of territory they were going through at the moment was questionable. How fast the ship went mile per hour and day per hours. She recalled the stories of starships being unable to be attacked in warp. She observed herself in the new outfit. She saw a pip that was only on the right folded cuff sleeve. It was rounded and circular, golden, real and hard.

_"The captain had a double take at the Vulcan's pip. He had one pip. It was remarkable that an ensign was handling the situation better than the assigned commander on the away mission. The captain observed the other remaining officers from the group then back toward the Vulcan, impressed."_

She noticed the uniform lacked a comn badge. She tilted her head finding it odd then straightened her head. She felt comfortable in the outfit walking around. Comfortable in her skin. She put on her boots last that lacked heels. She put her outfit into the trash dispensary. The outfit vanished in what seemed to be blue smoke at first glance. The woman sighed then made her way out of the bedroom to be greeted by Garen whose eyes seemed to be caught on the woman's figure. A broad smile grew on the man's face.

"We are taking that evidence and bringing it to the museum,"  Garen said. "where it should be."

"And yours too," Teres said.

"Hey, I might need this," Garen straightened the uniform. "so I can make more of it back home."

"Brother," Teres said. "we are not supposed to make money off this."

"I  know, I know, I know," Garen said. "its 'wrong', 'disgraceful', and 'a betrayal' to everything star fleet stands for."

"Precisely," Teres said. "We can, however, use it for the museum."

"True,"  Garen said. "I hate to see how the authorities will treat us upon returning." Teres placed her hands on the man's elbow.  
  
 "Relax," Teres said. "I have a friend in the justice system who will take care of it all." She took her hand off the man's shoulder.  
  
"Well then. . " Garen said. "Let's start our examination of the ship."  
  
The siblings made their way through the corridors.  
  
"So many doorways," Teres said.  
  
"I bet it roughly has a crew complimentary of one hundred to four hundred," Garen said.  "That means it must have at least. . . plausibly twenty-three to twenty-five decks."  
  
"It would have been obvious if it did have that many decks," Teres said. "Maybe there is five decks in total."  
  
"You said deck five, right?" Garen asked.  
  
"Yes,"  Teres said.  
  
"Let's find the sick bay," Garen said.  
  
They were stopped by the sightings of jefferie tubes, they opted to record it. Garen climbed through the jeffery tubes. Teres restrained the urge to squeal in sheer delight. She looked over watching her brother. She joined her brother sliding down the rows of ladders. Garen slid onto the surface rolling onto his side then brought himself up using the wall as support. Teres joined her sibling onto the deck.  The lights were barely on the dimly lit corridor. They looked around, curious, noticing equipment that hadn't been put away. Discarded phasers left on the floor. Garen cautiously stepped forward noticing the burns in the wall.  The square padd was held steady while Teres was in the lead. The light guided the siblings down the hall.  Garen looked around uneasy observing some of the light panels were broken with holes in them and some just had long reaching cracks.

Teres picked up a phaser before they went deeper into the corridor. Teres stopped, holding her hand out blocking her brother from going forward. Garen saw a well preserved corpse of a unique man. He had a series of ridges lining his head linking from his eyebrow less ridges and his skin color was brown. One of the ridges started closely alongside the sunken in ear and another traveled down to the large nose. His body was oddly enough intact. He was not breathing, not a sign of life emanated from him, while holding a hand on his waist covering a injury. The siblings expected to see a pool of blood only to find it was not there. Teres recorded the odd, unusual broad shouldered man. Garen turned away feeling sick. Teres placed a hand on the figure's hand only for the solid to turn into dust. The only thing left was the uniform. Teres appeared intrigued as she stood up. Garen returned wiping off some form of liquid off the corner of his mouth. 

"That is disgusting," Garen said.

"That's what happens when a corpse hasn't been touched in thousands of years well preserved," Teres replied, aiming the padd in the direction of the corridor. "Perhaps there is a sick bay nearby." Garen stood in the way of his sister.

"No, no, no," Garen shook his hands. "Not without that Klingon-Vulcan guide! She knows more about this place than we we do."

"We just stole a starship, brother," Teres said. "She has no idea. Let's explore," she walked around her older sibling. She shifted toward her brother quirking up a eyebrowless ridge. The hint of a playful smile appeared on her face.  "Unless. . . you are a Terran Hen."

"I am not," Garen said. "and what kind of alien was that?"

"I believe that is a Moclan," Teres said.

"You mean Boclan," Garen said.

"No, brother," Teres said. "It's Moclan."

"Grandmothers stories are more accurate than fathers," Garen said.

"She had some errors like the other bed time stories that are shared with the museum," Teres said.

Teres walked ahead from her brother. 

"You're still going to cling on to that?" Garen asked.

"It's the most agreed bed time version," Teres said.

Teres turned on the device. Garen caught up with his sibling looking around. There was obvious signs of repairs in the hull. The distinctive shape of what had been missing stood out. The siblings shared a glance together then went on forward. The lights were flickering on and off in the hall. More bodies of the Moclan appeared in their visual coming down the hall. What happened here was easy to visualize. Garen covered his mouth to restrain the emotional gasp that was threatening to come out. Teres did not seem to be bothered by the  piling bodies. She gently placed her hand on the shoulder of the small, younger Moclan. Delicately. It was a child. A mere child. She catalogued the age of the child in what seemed to be a make shift version of the uniform. He appeared to be somewhere in his pre-teens. The crew had been running, on foot, firing to defend themselves, fleeing from an unknown threat. She clenched the corpses shoulder then watched the corpse become dust. She stood up from the body. The siblings came to a doorway where the bodies had stopped. Garen was unable to walk forward. Teres walked back out five minutes later appearing to be not bothered by what she had witnessed.

"I do not believe you are best suited to survey the dead in there," Teres said.

"How many children were in there?" Garen asked.

"You shouldn't know that," Teres said.

"We know how many officers died in the line of duty serving Star Fleet," Garen said. He then repeated, "How many?" 

Teres looked toward her brother.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us beforehand that we were stealing a grave yard?" Garen asked, once cornering T'Karen.  
  
 T'Karen turned around from the set of doors raising an eyebrow back.  
  
"You found it?"  T'Karen asked.  
  
"You are a disgusting being for stealing a goddamn grave yard," Garen said.  
  
 "I wouldn't say that," T'Karen said. "I didn't know."  
  
"You knew what the Terran text read," Garen said.  
  
"I did," T'Karen said. "But not all Terran text should be taken literally."  
  
"You should have told us," Garen said.  
  
 "You would have backed out," T'Karen said.  
  
"You are right. We would. It is disrespectful to disturb the dead."  Garen said.  
  
"And yet you have not left your home world to see all that you collected happened," T'Karen replied.  
  
 "My sister had to touch the dead to give them a proper burial in space," Garen began to explain. "Then we watched a cleaner suck in their ashes and vanish into the wall. The dead will not be happy with you. You are going to hell for knowingly taking their graveyard. I am sticking around to make sure my sister is out of harms away and we will find other ways to return home after the tour of another graveyard. You are a shame upon your homeworld," he shook his index finger at the woman. "Shame on you." Garen shook his finger at the woman then walked in to the mess hall.

"I have to think otherwise," T'Karen said, then shook her head with a sigh. She entered into the mess hall. Garen stood behind his sister looking over toward the singer installment device.  
  
"This panel is confusing," Teres said. "More confusing than the one in the quarters. I never seen anything liike it."  
  
"It doesn't look lke the kind that a uniform can come out of," Garen said.  
  
"That is a different type of replicator," T'Karen said, coming toward them. "It is capable of creating edible products for consumption. This, fortunetly, operates off voice command."  
  
"Voice command?" Teres said.  
  
 "It relies off voice,"  T'Karen said, matter of factly.

"We get that," Garen said.  
  
"To think we thought that was a myth,"  Teres said.  
  
"That is one thing we must debunk upon our return," Garen said.  
  
 "What were you trying to get?" T'Karen asked.  
  
"I was attempting for it to replicate what Terrans refereed to as a egg salad," Teres said.  
  
"Computer, egg salad, hot." On the panel appeared in a blue light a steaming yellow dish with lumps on a tray. "Welcome to the 25th century."

"Knee may o," Teres said, then took the tray and made her way toward the table.

"She has a lot to learn about the Vulcan language," T'Karen very softy remarked to herself. "And you, Mister Garen?"

"Teach us to speak Terran," Garen said. "if you're going to get on my sisters good side and mine, for that matter, you'll make yourself useful."  
  
"Certainly," T'Karen said. "'There is enough time to teach you."  
  
"Hm?" Garen said.  
  
 "We'll be in Starbase one within forty-eight days," T'Karen said. "Terran is not difficult. We shall start after lunch. .  . Now what do you need the replicator to make?"

* * *

The Moclan vessel made its way into the federation home solar system. Passing by all nine planets. The fabled Nibaru planet that had been changed in orbit by other means. The camera sunk through the layers of metal diving down straight to the bridge. The three individuals entered the scenery in uniforms that seemed well taken care of.  They had federation comn badges on their breast pockets. Teres came over toward the front console looking at it in awe and fascination. After thousands of years never been seen by outsiders, Starbase 1 welcomed newcomers. Garen stared at it. T'Karen came over to the pilots chair where she took the ship off manual.  
  
"It looks larger than what they said," Garen said.  
  
"It is beautiful," Teres said. "Exactly how I pictured it to be."  
  
 "Wow, the earth is so green." Garen said.  
  
"The Earth  is full of greenery," T'Karen said. "well kept and populated by Vulcans. . ."  
  
"What happened to the humans?" Teres asked, alarmed.  
  
 "It's a long story." T'Karen said, softly.  
  
"Past two months you tell us a story about them that we have not heard and you always end it with ' _and they did not continue that after the collapse of the federation, sadly_ '," Garen said. "We ought to know what happened to them. No one really knows what led to their downfall. It's a historical mystery."  
  
"You know the adventures of the great captains but you don't know the stories of the disgraced captains," T'Karen said.  "humans are a _extinct_ species. Earth is a planet that has restrictions on how many Vulcans can live in certain areas. Housings, mainly, development, there is a series of planets named Earth with numbers. This is a relic of a golden bygone era."  
  
"So shit hit the fan," Teres said. "as you Vulcans like to say."  
  
T'Karen smiled, widely, back at the woman with her head turned toward.  
  
"No," T'Karen said. "that is a Terran phrase."

"Quite interesting," Teres said, softly.  
  
"Now how do we get inside the starbase?" Garen said.  
  
"Well," T'Karen said. "I have been brainstorming that," she looked at the screen. "Odd, we have yet to be attacked."

T'Karen squinted at the screen while half taken back, half startled by the lack of Vulcan starships appearing in the darkness of space. The moon was blocking the side of Earth that had lit portions visible from space. There was a very old space station in the orbit of Earth locked where it had been thousands of years ago. Well aged. Looked like it could be used any day by the residents of a space program. She leaned back into the chair folding her arms.

"Perhaps they think protecting a star base is a waste of their time," Garen said. "what little can outsiders do with something they don't know to read? Let alone use? They must be different from this vessel. This vessel is shaped like  a terran birds skull." he sighed, sitting down into the chair. "A complete waste of resources if you ask me."  
  
"Hold on," T'Karen said. "They could be cloaked."  
  
"Cloaked," Garen said, straightening up in his chair.  
  
"Vulcans don't have cloaking devices," Teres said.  
  
"Vulcan defense logic has changed over the thousands of years," T'Karen said. "Klingons were given the Vulcan hello after a time."  
  
"I have heard of that story," Garen said. "Didn't that human get court martial-ed over it?"  
  
"She did," T'Karen said. "Vulcans still use it. We should not expect to attack."  
  
"Why should we when you just said the Vulcan hello could be applied to us?" Garen asked.  
  
"That is very concerning," Teres said.  
  
"Moclans may be mad weapon specialists industrialists," T'Karen said. "but that is no reason to judge them for attacking first. They rarely venture out their corner of space due to the hostilities between Romulans and Klingons.  Not entirely safe passage."

"Do they practice population control?" Teres asked, visibly concerned.

"Theoretically," T'Karen said. She came over to the security  station. ". . . If the starbase is haunted like most stations formerly under the federation then this plan will surely work." Her fingers danced on the touch screen pressing on small, miniature boxes with bold small text. The woman  came over to the pilots chair then leaned over to the side inputting the path ahead. She straightened into her seat. "We shall not die today."  
  
Teres looked down at the navigation station.  
  
"No one is in there," Teres said.  
  
"No one?" Garen said, feeling his stomach twist.  
  
"Not a soul," Teres said.  
  
 "Surak once said, 'There is hope in the impossible'," T'Karen said. "I want to believe there is."  
  
"At least that is one thing that stays consistent among others for Vulcans," Garen grumbled. "they believe in everything. We are going to die in space. Destroying an antique. A sign of a everything star fleet stood for! Peace, exploration, and unity! The destruction of a historical land mark is something I did not come along for!"  
  
"Brother, she wouldn't destroy a land mark," Teres reassured.  
  
"I did once," T'Karen said.  
  
"Don't justify his theory," Teres replied.  
  
"I had to participate in the repairs of the landmark afterwards," T'Karen replied.

"You can't just repair starbase one," Garen said. "the historical significance would be lost."

"No, it wouldn't," T'Karen said. "Vulcans would not allow it."

"Like if it were repaired so many times, it would lose its aesthetic!" Garen reiterated.

"Vulcan has all the design plans for every facility in star fleet to make, rebuild, or repair," T'Karen explained. "you can relax."

"Someone has to not be relaxed when it comes to STARBASE ONE!" Garen raised his voice.

"If we do crash, Vulcan will make adequate repairs that make it seem nothing happened at all in the past thousands of years," T'Karen explained. "does that satisfy your concern?"

"Much," Garen said, then his eyes widened. He gestured toward the view screen  "The doors! They are opening!"  
  
"They believe we come in peace," T'Karen said, warmly.  
  
"Fascinating," Teres remarked, lowly, in intrigue.  
  
The Moclan ship trembled from side to side being struck once more.

Lights briefly went out then came back on emitting a gentle red within the bridge. The security panel blew up in Garen's face knocking him down to the floor with newly formed burns on his hands and face. Teres turned away from the station then came over toward her brothers side. T'Karen took grip on the flight program dodging the blows. She dragged her brother way from the station near to the captain's chair. She appeared to be panicked, a sign of fear on her face, and she was in dismay. T'Karen flew into the starbase hangar. The doors closed behind the starship. Teres helped her brother up bringing him over toward the view screen. He had a swollen, enlarged left eye. He painfully looked on to see various starships lingering the scenery. Teres's hand on the side of his thigh. Relief swept the room.

"We finally made it," T'Karen said.

"It's beautiful,"  Garen said.

"It is everything the stories say," Teres remarked.

". . . Ha," Garen said. "there is no Enterprise."

"The Enterprise is here somewhere," T'Karen said.

"I need to sit down," Garen said.

Teres guided him down to the navigator's chair.

"You need a doctor,"  Teres said.

"A good one," Garen said.

"Unfortunetly, there is not an Enterprise around," T'Karen said. "I am afraid the Yorktown will have to do."

"The Yorktown?" the siblings said in unison.

"Yes,"  T'Karen said. "Ah look, there is the USS Discovery. Surprised they kept it."  
  
"There's a word in our culture for keeping items like these. . ." Teres said. "in Terran, it would be . . . bloody trophies."  
  
"The word sounds better in our native language," Garen said.  
  
"It really does," Teres agreed.  
  
"What is it in your language?" T'Karen asked.  
  
"Turn off the translator," Teres said.  
  
"Done," T'Karen said with a tap on the comn badge.  
  
"Kutju'  EJ'Que's," Teres said. "KutJu' S' gLeq Pagj' Du'Dej."  
  
"Blood is better than death," T'Karen said. "that's a phrase I never heard. . . But doesn't blood come from--"  
  
"Shut up," Garen said, sharply. "We're not a violent society." Teres laughed.

"Your language sounds similar to  Klingon just very different," T'Karen said. "some Klingon philosophies cannot be shaken off. That is what I like most about the evolution in societies even language. . .  I used to be a linguistics major. Top of my class at Vulcan Academy. You're probably wondering how we can still have our rite of passage. We are very good at preserving," she winked back at Teres. "It's a Vulcan hobby."  
  
"I can believe that," Teres said.  
  
"Hmm," Garen said. "there is a lot of Galaxy class starships. Makes the Yorktown hard to find with one eye."

"It's not a Galaxy Class," T'Karen said. "the vessel we're looking has historical significance."

"The Enterprise has historical significance," Garen said.

"The Yorktown has historically been put aside in favor of the Enterprise," T'Karen said. "the Enterprise A was the Yorktown. It wouldn't take three months for a starship to be constructed. For example, the Yorktown was supposed to go on the first five year mission into deep space. The Enterprise went instead. The Enterprise went out, exploring, but we're doing none of that. We are here to come and see. We're looking for a Constition class."

"Is that it?" Garen asked.  
  
The women looked over in the direction of the ship that was in the direction of the view screen. T'Karen slid a orange disk into a small insert. Music began to play. It was music from Galaxy Quest, that slowly morphed from the television show into the movie variation. A tearful smile appeared on T'Karen's face. The look of awe on the siblings face. A delighted one grew on Garen's face while his sister remained as stoic compared to him. The music grew louder as they came closer. It felt a lot like they were coming home to somewhere they never been. The starship seemed well aged, well refined, and well taken care of. The starship came to the side of the vessel coming to where the dock port was  located. T'Karen initiated the docking port settings.  
  
"We must go in using  AVE suits,"  T'Karen said. "I am familiar to the environmental controls. They are located on the bridge."  
  
"Is that a required class at the academy?" Garen asked.  
  
"No,"  T'Karen said. "optional," she stood up. "I shall get the suits prepared."  
  
"I am going with you," Garen said.  
  
"Not until the environmental controls are on," T'Karen said. "getting the suit on will be painful for you and very uncomfortable with the amount of burns you may have from the console explosion. Console explosions killed officers in the line of duty more often than away missions. . . speaking of which, they need repairs." T'Karen came over toward the console. "A lot of repairs. That can be taken care of before our departure to your homeworld."

"It will be fine, brother," Teres assured. "I will be the first one to come and get you."  
  
"I don't feel good about this," Garen said.  
   
"This is a federation starship," Teres said. "There is no booby traps."  
  
"If there is, I don't need that on my conscience," Garen said. "And someone is in that starbase."  
  
"I didn't say it was haunted but it's haunted," T'Karen said, heading toward the turbo lift.  


 


	2. Chapter 2

The EVA suits were held in a room within the Moclan vessel. They were shaped to the figure of the human body with metal parts all over. T'Karen was the first to enter into the EVA suit that had its back opened for a figure to come in. Teres walked into the suit. The suit fell around her skin. Additional armor was added to the woman's tail. The helmet latched onto the pieces of the suit around the neckline. It felt odd to be in a EVA suit when in a perfect environment. T'Karen strayed away from the EVA center as the computer booted to life within the suit. The sudden feminine voice almost threw the woman off.  It was startling to hear it so close. She followed the woman down the hall until they came to the docking port door. T'Karen pressed on the touch screen panel. The long bridge connecting the two ships was long.

"Hold on to your ass," T'Karen said, walking a path down the bridge.

"This is . . ." Teres was a loss of words. She could see through the translucent walls the starships, the height and circular design of the interior. The layers of gray bouncing off the metal that was shiny. Not a touch of energy infesting particles coating the inside. Space barnacles were nowhere in sight.  Teres had large, wide eyes that absorbed in the scenery.

"Amazing?" T'Karen said. "Sublime?" T'Karen shifted toward Teres.

"Yes," Teres said, with a small nod.

"You are in for a trip," T'Karen said.

"Is this what officers in Star Fleet saw when they docked into star bases?" Teres asked.

"For a living," T'Karen said.

"In most of the bed time stories they came over to ships via shuttles," Teres said. "Transport system must be inefficient."

"Actually," T'Karen said. "they were very dangerous."

"Really?" Teres asked.

"Never knew where one could drop you off into a alternate universe or be off worse than before instead of your destination perfectly fine," T'Karen said. "fatalities were common before they had a secure safety system installed into the transporter shortly in 2280's. Not as threatening but still posed a problem."

"So those stories. . ." Teres started.

"All of them are true," T'Karen said.

"About the Orville lacking a transporter room due to safety was an actual issue?" Teres finished.

"It was," T'Karen said. "heavy cruisers were the only vessels that were allowed to have transporters."

"When was that put in to motion?" Teres asked.

"2410,"  T'Karen said. "Transporter was theorized to be phased out in the late 2460's if Star Fleet continued to operate," Teres gazed around trapped in awe and wonder of what she was walking through. Her eyes were lit up despite retaining a emotionless mask. "I believe that Transporter rooms are not meant to have a make a comeback should Star Fleet return one day with shipyards actively being used again and the space docks."

"Can you imagine the workers repairing the hull in EVA suits?" Teres asked. "The clutches on the ship keeping it into place. . . Must have been quite a sight."

"I can imagine, Miss Teres," T'Karen said.

"This is better than I thought," Teres said. "I always thought being transported from ship to ship would be different."

"It is different," T'Karen said. "I never used a transporter. Vulcan ships lack them."

"Better off without them," Teres said.

"More trouble then they are worth," T'Karen agreed. She came to the door then twisted the circular object.  "One. . ." she tugged at it once more. "two. . ." she twirled it a third time. "THREE!"  T'Karen struck the wall as the door flew open. The woman steadied herself controlling her breathing. She looked down toward the arm console that indicated how much oxygen the suit. Teres came to the woman's side stretching her hand out toward her shoulder out of concern.

"Are you all right?" Teres asked.

"I am okay," T'Karen said. "I did not expect that." Teres let go of the woman's shoulder then went in first.

Teres looked around in awe seeing the corridors that were barely lit. It looked less advanced compared to the colorful halls of the Moclan vessel. Perhaps because it was older. She looked up toward the ceiling to see a rounded object with a glass center. She tilted her head in curiosity stepping aside. The tall guide entered next coming to Teres's side.

"What are these?" Teres asked, in awe.

"I believe they are holo-emitters," T'Karen said. "some of the crew were holograms."

"Holograms?" Teres asked.

"Yes," T'Karen said, with a nod,

"I though. . . I always thought that was a holodeck joke," Teres said.

"It wasn't," T'Karen said. "The Doctor of Voyager was the first sapient hologram officer in the fleet. Moriarty is the first sentient hologram in star fleet history. "

". . . One question, what's a holoprogram?" Teres asked.  T'Karen turned toward Teres, raising an eyebrow.  "The word gets thrown around a lot on my homeworld. What is the difference?"

"Holoprogram is a entire scenery reproduced in the holodeck," T'Karen explained. "Hologram is the individual."

"So what is up there?" Teres asked, gesturing up.  
  
 "Holo-emitters," T'Karen said. "Federation decided that sapient holograms should be able to walk around and serve on the ship should they join Star Fleet," the guide smiled, briefly. Teres lowered her head from the holo-emitter.  "they hadn't gotten the technology to store all that memory so the doctor was the only hologram until the end of the federation."  
  
"Do Vulcans have technology for a infinite memory ram suited for holograms?" Teres asked.  
  
 "Yes," T'Karen said. "I brought a holo-mobile." she patted on her thigh armor. "Just in case." T'Karen tapped on the forearm screen. "Here comes the decks." 

A light blue series emitted off her forearm taking a layered deck with two circular yellow dots. There were white boxes seen alongside the walls in the hologram that reflected off her helmet leaving a distinctive blue glow. T'Karen went ahead acting as the lead. The tall woman had to be five foot eight compared to the five foot five woman. The elevator like door came into their line of sight. The walls lacked windows except for what seemed to be square additions into the wall seen nearly on every hallway corner they passed. The two came in front of the door. The two dark gray doors opened before the two. Teres raised an eyebrow at the uniquely designed turbo lift. T'Karen entered into the turbo lift and Teres followed afterwards. They stood side by side grabbing hold onto the levelers.  
  
"Computer," Teres said. "Breedge."  
  
"Bridge," T'Karen said, after a moment of silence.  "You need to practice saying bridge in Terran a lot more."  
  
The turbolift gently rolled up.  
  
"Breedge." Teres said. "Bredge. Breedge. Breed. Breed."  
  
"Think of the word 'British' but with the word edge that doesn't have a 'E'," T'Karen said. "it may prove to be helpful. Try again."  
  
"Bridge," Teres said. "you are very helpful."  
  
"Anything for a historian," T'Karen said. The doors opened once the turbolift came to a gentle stop. The doors opened before the two women. The bridge was dark. Very dark while only the lighting outside illuminated some of the features of the bridge.  "Amazing."

"The bridge looks a lot better than the Moclan ship," Teres said. The two women walked out of the turbolift where they started to split up. "I used to think the navigation and pilot machinery looked different."

"This is a classic," T'Karen said, walking around the side. "A classic model."

"They did that?" Teres said, looking off from the second station.

"Don't underestimate Star Fleet and it's fondness at the golden years," Her hand drifted on the dark handrail.

"Star Fleet was very nostalgic in some of the bed time stories," Teres said. "I for one can't believe that part was real."

"Don't we all?" T'Karen said. She looked over to see the captain's chair that appeared to be well preserved, and well kept. There were old additions to the chair consisting of colorful buttons. All the portraits of a bridge on Constitution classes were rather accurate. Some of them looked like a mix of 1960's and 1980's production quality. T'Karen's fingers drifted over the buttons at the Environmental Controls with her mind reeling back knowledge on the class at the Vulcan Science Academy. "Communications is the first station to the left."

T'Karen gently pressed a series of buttons at random.

The lighting in the room grew brighter most notably highlighting the center of the bridge.

The bridge was a gentle color, eye friendly at most part. Teres took off her helmet taking it to her side. There were touch screens above her head showing pictures of the starbase and the surrounding ships. Teres almost felt her legs were ready to give out. She saw the two stations up ahead with a series of buttons to the side that were large and colorful among the wide screen behind the comfortable appealing chairs. Teres noticed the switches and buttons placed randomly about the bridge. She briefly closed her eyes and reopened them. It felt odd to be in the center of a bridge. It felt weird for the most part. Teres came over to the communications station where there were a series of buttons that had a flat screen with the Constitution class on it. There were three disks inside that were yellow, green, and red. There was a light gray screw like object secured in front of the buttons. She looked in awe at the buttons perplexed on how to operate the station.

"Are you all right?" T'Karen asked, gently placing a  hand on the woman's shoulder.

"Unsure . . ." T'Karen said. "I do not know how to operate this machinery."

"Let's see about that---" T'Karen came to a stop. She had a audible gasp. "They went overboard there."

"Does this come with a . . ." Teres snapped her fingers, repeatedly. " _S'-Tuach'KLan Quch-PaSDi_!"

"Information graphic thingy? No, it doesn't," T'Karen knelt down then opened a compartment that revealed all the wiring and tubes and other internal circuitry. "Manual is not there, either," Teres and T'Karen stood up from the lower half once it was closed. "Quite puzzling.  We didn't have a class for the communications station when it is the most important part of a starship in  Star Fleet."

"Hard to believe Vulcans left that out," Teres said.

"Then again, it does have a fax machine," T'Karen said.

"Fax machine?" Teres asked.

"Yes," T'Karen said. Teres raised an eyebrow.  "Shame that faxing was phased out. . ."

"What is faxing?" Teres asked, once more.

"It is a telephonic transmission of scanned-in printed material usually to  a phone number associated with a printer or other output device," T'Karen explained. "With a fax machine, the document is treated as a single graphic file converted into a bitmap. In this form, the information is treated as electrical signals through the telephone system. The receiving fax machine reconverts the coded image and prints a paper copy of the document."

"And it worked in space," Teres said. "no wonder the captain ripped off paper from the communications station." She pressed at random a button then moved to put the screw object into her ear. She pressed a yellow button. She can hear static.  "Yorktown to Moclan vessel, can you read me?"  
  
Teres waited for a reply.

If he succumbed to his injuries, she didn't know what she would do. She just wouldn't function knowing her brother died because of her.  Life would be a dark, dull place to live in. T'Karen pressed more buttons at the environmental control station. Each deck that the camera panned on, became lit up, lights came on, the botany lab powered up overwhelmed with several types of pants. The doors remained closed on the plants. Another section where it was designed like a park with windows surrounding the plants  at the bottom of the ship where at the center of the room was a large tree in front of a waterfall. Quarters were lit showing their color. Sick Bay hummed to life. Engineering came up next with buttons and lights glowing. The mess hall turned on displaying a series of  tables with installed chairs. Several labs were powering on. The Morgue remained as lifeless even with the lights on with a dreadful atmosphere. Scientific equipment from the stations beeped to life as did the sounds from the front stations across from the captain's chair.  
  
 "What are you using?" Garen's voice came over.  "you sound clear as a intercomn."  
  
Teres sighed, relieved to hear her brother's voice.  
  
"We have turned on the environmental systems," Teres said. "Sick Bay is likely on deck five if this is a classic vessel. So many buttons."  
  
"Buttons,"  Garen repeated.  
  
"Yes, brother, a lot of them," Teres said.  
  
 "On my way," Garen said. "If I don't make it down there in five minutes, come and pick me up. The pain is distracting."  
  
"Will do," Teres said. "Yorktown out."  
  
Teres let go of the button then took out the communications device putting into the fixture where it belonged.

Teres was thrilled as it began to sink in. She had just hailed a ship. She was working on the bridge. She felt like she were living in history. There was a dial beside the yellow button. It was odd, but the more she looked at it, the more she could see numbers. Frequencies, they had to be frequency settings. Humans deserved more credit then they were given for coming up with ways to get reception. The smallest of a smile grew on the historian's face. The women faced each other then made their way into the turbo lift. T'Karen gave the order. The turbo lift closed on the bridge that had a wide screen showing ahead the Moclan vessel that looked smaller in comparison. The turbo lift doors opened then the two women came out once letting go of the levelers. They followed the same path that they had entered. Upon making it back to the Moclan ship, there was no sign of Garen.

"Better drop these EVA suits off first," T'Karen said.

"My brother is likely in the turbo lift," Teres said "burn victims generally need help getting to sick bay."

"They do,"  T'Karen said, with a nod. "I wouldn't blame him for being unable to get up. I know how it feels."

"You had a console explode in your face?" Teres asked.

"Yes," T'Karen replied. "very painful. .  . It was my first experience near Klingon and Romulan space."

"I am not surprised," Teres said. "for someone who does not listen to warnings, it could have been avoided."

"I was able to bring back a piece of history," T'Karen said. "I brought back the ship that Ambassador Solkar, forefather of  Spock, had used to initiate first contact. Full of history," the two women slowly walked. Their gloveless hands briefly brushing against each other. "It was very preserved."

"Ambassador Cochrane you mean," Teres said. "History says that Solkar chose to adopt his bondmates last name."

"No, it was Zeframe S'chn T'gai-Cochrane," T'Karen said. "History says at some point before Cochrane's disappearance, it used to house him and Ambassador Solkar here as bondmates for several decades," she sounded sad talking about it. "First Vulcan-Human interspecies couple. Paved the way for further Vulcan-Human relations."

"It is generally accepted to bond with those that are loved," Teres said. "it is illogical to tear people apart for loving each other."

"Indeed," T'Karen said.

"Their story ended tragically," Teres said.

"It most certainly did not," T'Karen said, sharply.

"Hm?" Teres asked.

"You see. . . Mr Spock. . .  It's a not well known story," T'Karen said. "he returned to Cochrane before the man's death and took his katra. And brought it to Vulcan. They were T'hy'la," Teres stopped where she was at letting the woman continue on without her. "Mr Spock and his bondmate are currently together in the ancient hall of thought." she turned in the direction of Teres who seemed to be emotional from the distance. T'Karen raise a slanted brow back at the woman, mostly in concern. 

"Thigh high la?" Teres asked.

"No, it's T'hy'la," T'Karen said. "Pronounce it with me. Tuh-HIGH-la."

"Ta-high-la," Teres repeated.  T'Karen paused, frowning, then a light bulb went off in her eyes.

"Ti-high-la," T'Karen repeated.

"Tuh-high-la," Teres replied.

"Tuh-ee-la," T'Karen said

"Tuh-HIGH-la," Teres said. A smile grew on the guide's face.

"You're good with it," T'Karen said.

"People who call themselves T'hy'la never have a happy ending," Teres said. "the stories I were told are _tragic_."  Her voice trembled with emotion at each syllable until it broke at the last word.

T'Karen came over toward Teres then placed a hand on her shoulder. Her other hand came to side of the woman's shoulder. Teres took in deep breaths then exhaled with her eyes closed.  She briefly closed her eyes then looked up toward the guide with a thankful look in her eyes. The woman straightened herself so T'Karen took her hand off the woman's shoulders then shared a small nod. They continued their way down the corridor heading after the EVA section. They came into the EVA chambers where the suit was taken off their skin by the machinery. Stepping out of the machinery, she felt a little bit lighter. T'Karen was headed out of the room in a two pieced outfit that fit her characteristic. She had her fedora placed to her side on a hook poking from the belt. Her pant legs were rolled up above her ankles. She had a phaser holder below the fedora. She looked like a explorer in space.

"Come along, Miss Teres," T'Karen called.

"Do you always take the fedora with you?" Teres asked.

"It goes where-ever I go," T'Karen said. "I can not be found without it."

"So it is your trademark," Teres said.

"It is," T'Karen said. "yours?"

"I don't have one," Teres replied, in a low voice.

"You will find one, eventually," T'Karen said. "I did not find mine until I was twenty-three,"

"How old are you?" Teres asked.

"Thirty,"  T'Karen said. "you?"

"Thirty-two," Teres replied.

"You got time," T'Karen said. "keep on waiting."

"I will--" Teres came to a stop to see a open turbo lift where her brother laid in. His back was against the wall.  "Brother!"

Teres came to her brother's side.

"He is breathing," T'Karen said. "We must get him to sick bay."

"Sister," Garen's voice was faint. His left eye was swollen shut. "is it everything we hoped for?"

"Yes, brother," Teres said. "come on, get up," she swung his hand over her shoulder and T'Karen did the same. "you need a doctor."

"My ears are ringing," Garen said, his eyes wincing in pain.

"Ssssh," Teres said. "rest."

"Don't sssh me. . ." Garen's not-as-swollen eye closed.

"I can shush you all I want," Teres said, teasingly.

"Urgh," Garen groaned.

"First one to the Yorktown is a disfigured human!" T'Karen said.

"I do not see how we can race," Teres said.

"Humor me, Miss Teres," T'Karen said.

The two women kicked their speed up heading down the hall.

It occurred to Teres that T'Karen was taking the heat off the direness off the situation by racing.

That was a very human move. What was human? The very definition of human meant clever in the siblings language. They crossed the bridge as the man's legs dragged on the floor with his head lowered. T'Karen's eyes were caught on the deck plans alongside the entrances to the doorways that had a bold font. Several doorways were passed on by.  T'Karen came to a abrupt stop making the other woman come to a halt. She pointed her finger in the direction of the doorway. They turned in the doors direction then went on. The doors opened before the two women leading them in. They came to a large establishment. A huge medical center with enough room for several crowds of people to gather. It was very roomy. T'Karen looked at it, bewildered, and half in disbelief. Clearly, their knowledge of sick bay was overwhelmingly incorrect. There were doorways that were closed leading to different additions of sick bay.  Several light blue biobeds pressed against the wall. A large doughnut shaped desk set in the center of the room. There were a lot of equipment ready to be used. Unopened cabinets.  There were monitor screens on the walls with all the layout for a patient ready to be used right behind the head. The two women placed Garen onto a biobed.

"Computer, activate Emergency Medical Hologram," T'Karen said.

From behind them a rather short figure appeared in the dimly lit scenery with hands behind their back. Teres felt someone was staring at her. The two slowly turned to see a young man with baby blue eyes looking at them curiously while in a dark gray and light gray uniform that had a blue shirt underneath. He had dark brown hair that had a curl to the side and bags under his eyes. The man smiled with his eyes lighting up and bouncing on the tips of his toes. Recognition easily passed through the eyes of the two women as they slowly started to relax at the sight.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," McCoy requested. "Emergency Medical Hologram, Mark VII."

Teres slowly stepped forward looking at him, observing him, in awe.

"Hologram seven," Teres said. Her eyes were full of wonder. "You are based off Doctor McCoy. . . The doctor who rather resign than be replaced by a hologram," a smile grew on the woman's face. "you are just as every bit the stories said you were." 

"At your service," McCoy said, with a pleased nod.

T'Karen placed a hand on the woman's shoulder stopping her from approaching the hologram.

"We need you to take of a severely burned individual," T'Karens said. "This is Mr Garen, brother of my friend, " she looked over toward the woman then back toward the doctor. "Teres."

"Just what happened to this youn' man?" McCoy looked up in concern. "Ship got attacked?"

"Yes," T'Karen said. "just not this ship."

"Get out of here, please," McCoy said. "family must remain outside, nurse! I need a dermal generator--" he looked over. "Where is the nurses?"

"It has been eighty thousand years since the time of Star Fleet," T'Karen started. "starships, starbases, and you . . .  all that is left of it." The doctor narrowed his eyebrows at the two women quickly turning from his friendly demeanor to a angry one.

"Out," McCoy said. "Now!" he gestured toward the door chasing after them.  "Shoo, shoo shoo, medical professionals only in this room! OUT!" The two women went out of the doorway. He turned away wiping dust off his hands. "Now where do they keep the dermal generators these days?" the doctor strayed over toward the cabinet.

* * *

Garen's eyes slowly opened to the dimly lit room. He looked over to see his sister sitting beside him in a chair with her eyes closed. She was serene, her hands clasped together, with her elbows against the arm rests. Garen noticed that he was not in any pain. He partially leaned up from the biobed using his elbows. He observed the room that was contrary to what had been told. The bedtime stories were all over the place regarding sick bay. So many stories that were proven to be untrue. He looked over in the direction of his sister.

"Mao-Kin," Garen said.

Teres opened her eyes.

"Nao-kin," Teres greeted her brother. 

A odd individual came over toward them.

"All right, since I updated my universal translator using the new system in the comnbadge," McCoy said. "I can fluently speak your language," the siblings looked at him. "now to be quite frank with y'all: What the hell is on your damn mind?"

"We were curious," Garen said.

"If Star Fleet's gone, then it has to be for a good reason," McCoy said.

"If there was, we would have known," Teres said. "we are historians."

"Then what am I?" McCoy asked. "What species do I belong to at first glance?" The siblings shared a glance then back.

"You are a entirely new species to us," Garen said. "we have no idea what you are."

"I am a human," McCoy said. "perhaps humans are extinct for a good reason."

"Humans are not the kinds who can get themselves extinct," Garen said.

"Oh really?" McCoy asked. "Think ya know about us?"

"Yes," Garen said.

"No, ya don't," McCoy said. "I am on a starship in the shipyard for all I know."

"You're not wrong," Teres said.

"If I am not wrong then I am a kangaroo rat capable of foolin' everyone that I am a kangaroo," McCoy said.

"Kangaroo rat?" the siblings said, tilting their heads at once.

"That's a unique phrase," Garen said. Garen straightened his head.

"What is the etymology behind it?" Teres asked, as the doctor's eyes slowly widened.

The doctor had a look of utter heartbreak and loss.

". . . It really has been. . . eighty. . . thousand years?" McCoy asked.

"Yes," the siblings said.

"Delete me," McCoy said. " _Please_."

"Captain's can only do that, Doctor," T'Karen said, entering the room. "we are not authorized. We can deactivate you if that is what you wish. .  . Or," she took out a small, square device from her pocket handing it out to the doctor. "this goes on the back of your neck," McCoy took the small item. "It transfers your program onto there. You can terminate yourself."

McCoy looked up.

"I can't do that," McCoy said. "ya have to do that. How about I deactivate myself and then ya crush the disk?"

"I do not destroy history," T'Karen said. "it is quite illogical to kill someone with knowledge."

"Look, I am not McCoy,  I am a hologram," McCoy said. "and there is no Star Fleet! Am I the only hologram that exists?"

"No," T'Karen said.

"I mean human,"  McCoy said.

"I am not quite sure," T'Karen said. "There is likely holograms for science, command, engineering, navigational, pilot, communications, and security. . . They are not on as we do not intend to take this ship out of the starbase."

"That is a load of bullshit," McCoy said. "ya plan to put Star Fleet back together."

"Not true," T'Karen said. "I do not believe that Star  Fleet history should be started again."

"What is a bull?" Teres asked.

"A four legged animal with horns," McCoy said. He turned toward the siblings. "Why is it that ya don't know basic human wildlife?"

"Not many were mentioned in bed time stories," Teres said.

"The ones we know are very useful to evade," Garen said. "and to protect ourselves."

"Uh huh and I suppose ya not intendin' to start a big ol' war to go back to my era," McCoy said.

"We are  not interested in war, doctor," Teres said. "if anything, we just want peace. And to go home."

"If ya in Starbase One, surely, just surely, ya know that everythin's changed," McCoy said. "I am not goin' to say the age old phrase when you get it," he put the device on the back of his neck. "I fully expect ya not to use me ever again." the doctor turned toward the woman.

"The device you are using has infinite memory," T'Karen said. "the next time you are used, it may be years from now."

"Or never," McCoy said. "It is better than not havin' nurses at all to help me."

"Doctor," T'Karen said. "you have full control over your deactivation sequence with this device."

"Thank ya," McCoy said. "Computer," the familiar sound of a series of beeps came to. "deactivate Emergency Medical Hologram."

His figure was outlined in a blue light as he stared back at the woman, sadly, yet comforted. Color vanished from his persona until he was a 3-d glowing individual. The light vanished into the small device. The small device fell into the woman's hand.  T'Karen placed the device onto the counter. She sighed leaning against the counter then looked over toward the siblings with a tired look on her face. As though all the energy she had was used for that one conversation.

"Seen enough of history?" T'Karen asked.

"Yes," the siblings said, at once.

"This recording device has been used to capture every inch of sick bay including EVA central," Teres said.

"At least we can go back home to prove the skeptics wrong,"  Garen said.

"The children will love this development," Teres said.  
  
"For once, Teriste will have to acknowledge the museum as being accurate history," Garen said. "and we have much to celebrate."  
  
'Yes, brother, we do," Teres said, nodding in agreement.  
  
"And what are you going to do, thief?" Garen asked, light heartedly.

"First, I must explore the starbase, then I will guide you home," T'Karen explained. "This part of the visit is all on me. I will return in a hour, and you must be out of the uniform afterwards."  
  
"We didn't bring extra's," Teres said.  

"I will retrieve the civilian attire," T'Karen said. "after I explore the starbase."  
  
The two siblings noded. The tall woman made her way out of the room then headed downthe corridor. The siblings exchanged a glance together. Teres took the chip on the counter as she and her brother came to the doorway. They exchanged tense looks waiting. Five minutes later, they fled out of sick bay. They speeded down into the turbo lift. They grabbed onto the level and gave the command, "Bridge." The turbo lift went up. The siblings waited. The doors opened befoe them to the glowing, dimly lit bridge that was dark at some places. The captain's chair rested in the enter with a spot light on it. The siblings went to two different stations, Teres to the piloting station, and Garen to the communications station.  
  
"How does one send the commmand to open the front doors?" Garen asked.  
  
"Put the screw into your ear and press the yellow button close to the dial," Teres said, as she plotted course.  
  
"All right," Garen put the device into his ear. "Yorktown to Starbase One, Yorktown to Starbase One, can you read me?" he fiddled with the dial listening to loud static. The long hall between the ships disconnected between the docking ports.  "please open doors, repeat, please open the doors," he looked over toward the view screen to see the ship was passing by the small Moclan vessel. "we are returning to our homeworld to use as evidence that we can have peace and be united. Please, whoever is there, open  the doors."

The scene backed out to reveal lighting turning on above the serial numbers as the faint familiar musical theme of the original series movie theme began to play. It played consistently while the ship flew slowly in space. The scene panning over to the nacelles, then to the lower part of the ship, and then up to the bridge overseeing the two figures where the camera flew in. Garen turned from his station. Teres leaned against the seat as panic was easily traveling through the room. Garen felt sweat coming down his skin. The Yorktown passed by several of her sisters. The doors to the base slowly opened once more. The siblings stared back in shock sharing a glance. T'Karen was in the lab, away from the main controls, within a EVA suit. She was looking around in the airless environment when the lights oddly came on kicking to life. She raised an eyebrow looking over her shoulder. Our attention returned to the vessel flying out of the starbase. The siblings relaxed where they sat feeling tremendous weight falling off. 

"We did it," Garen said. "We did it!"

"We stole a starship," Teres said, slowly turning in the direction of her sibling. "Successfully."

"What?" Garen asked. "Too easy for you?"  
  
"I do not believe stealing a starship should be this easy," Teres said. "glory comes with sacrifice."  
  
 "You mean a fight," Garen said. "we are not that type of people. Nor is Star Fleet."  
  
"The war stories say they are that type of people," Teres said.  
  
"That was with singular entities waging war against them and they had to defend themselves," Garen said. He walked over toward her. "You are terrified that we are walking toward our death. You are terrified that space is going to throw something at us that we didn't expect," he smiled once coming to a stop beside the chair. "Sister, you are at the station that controls phasers and tractor beams."  
  
"Brother," Teres said. "I do not know how to operate this machinery. Nor do you."  
  
"Perhaps we can learn," Garen said. "stolen starship or not, we will know more about Star Fleet by the time we get back."

The holo-emitter flew up into the air becoming part of McCoy's neck.

"YA STOLE A STARSHIP AND YA CAN'T READ?" the doctor roared.

"We do know what words mean," Teres said.

"Writin' and talkin' is two different thin's, young woman," McCoy said. "Two _illiterate_ hybrids." he rubbed both sides of his temples.

"Are you all right?" Teres asked.

"Free of a headache that should be there: no," McCoy said, flatly. "that's it, I am teachin' y'all to read."

"That will be extremely helpful," Garen said. "though I am not sure the coordinates of our home planet. "

"So am I," Teres said.

"We're lost," McCoy said. "in space."

"We didn't think ahead," Garen said.

"Good, I know a good place to stop the ship by," McCoy said. "New Thermia. Take a few weeks to get there. Hopefully y'all be understand _some_ federation standard writin' by then."

* * *

McCoy's program was still running late at night on the bridge. The siblings were sleeping inside their assigned quarters. It had been two weeks since they stole a starship. They were learning how to write in Federation slandered and they were getting better. He looked down at the padd that showed their improving writing. He slid through the screenshots appearing to be proud of them. He straightened up when the communications station began to beep loudly. The familiar ding in the room sounded more alarming. The chorus of the bridge became frantic background noise as the doctor saw the impending pair of starships headed toward the Yorktown. The doctor recognized Xelayan vessels anywhere even the Dratch in the computers memory bank.

McCoy reached his hands out onto the panels inputting the familiar command to send the ship to a stop. His program was programmed to perform tasks on the bridge should certain officers not be operating in a time of crisis. The ship came to a gentle, soft stop several feet away from the starships. McCoy bolted to the turbo lift then delivered the command. The turbo lift went down taking him to his required floor. The doors opened before him. The doctor bolted down the hall only coming to a hard stop when his eyes caught sight of familiar numbers. He ran into Garen's quarters. Needless to say the doctor kept tripping and falling over furniture. McCoy managed to finally make his way into the bedroom. He tugged the man out of the bed. Garen's eyes were closed as he picked up the doctor then tossed him into the living room grumbling along the lines of, "I told her not to wake me up," and the doctor got up to his feet with some difficulty. He made his way into Teres quarters. He saw the room was lit. She was wearing sunglasses staring at the ceiling. The doctor sighed in relief.

"Teres,"  McCoy said.

Teres turned lowering her sunglasses briefly in the doctor's direction.

"Yes?" Teres said.

"How would ya feel makin' first contact with the Thermians," McCoy said.

"The Thermians," She lifted her sunglasses up and began to fall off the couch before the doctor caught her into his arms. " _THE_ Thermians?" The doctor helped her sit down onto the couch in shock.

"Yes, _The_ Thermians," McCoy said. "They are hailin' us and your brother is a heavy sleeper."

"Figures," Teres said. ". . . he is the only one who has a rough idea how to allowing hailing but that was to hail," she looked up unsure toward the doctor. "what if I screw up?"

"Every one makes a screw up for the sake of history," McCoy said. "I like to think that maybe I did make some mistakes in my personal life as well," he looked back, fondly, at memories that were programmed into his holo-matrix. Vivid memories. As though he had lived them himself. He placed a hand onto the woman's shoulder. "It's all right to be scared, that's what bein' brave is. Doin' somethin' that ya afraid of."

"It's good to hear that humans share the same philosophy," Teres said. "I will be on my way, doctor."

"If ya need me, I will be in sick bay making a Chief Medical Officer's log," McCoy said.

"A log?" Teres repeated.

"Ya mean to tell me ya never heard of a log?" McCoy asked.

"I know what a log is but you cannot make wood magically appear," Teres said. The doctor grew a amused expression.

"We are thinkin' of two different thin's, sweetie," McCoy said.

"What is a log?" Teres asked.

"A CMO's log is a form of _log_ entry record-keeping that was used since the first _captains_ sailed Earth's seas in ancient history. The _log_ was used to inform the _captain's_ superiors of what was happening on a mission and to record historical facts for future generations," McCoy explained. "doctors kept their own logs too." he shook his index finger at the young woman then made his way out.

Teres walked onto the bridge. The doors closed behind her back. She walked over toward the communications station then began to press all the colorful buttons on the console. The view screen grew to life. Teres distinctively sensed that she was being stared at. Dratch starships had a elaborate design consisting of the center resembling a elephants tusks. The Xelayan vessels had a distinctive beauty that was simple to them. Thermian vessels were a NTE model resembling a broken racquet. There were three figures on the wide view screen. Teres held her hand up making a split in the center.  One of the center figures had a Vulcan yet Cardassian appearance with the exception of a trunk being where the nose should be.  The left alien species were pale with a Vulcan bowl hair cut and had a similar appearance to McCoy. And Xelayans had double ridges on both sides of their faces above their eyebrows that went down to their noses and decorated their small pointy ears.

"Greetings," Teres said. "We come in peace."

"My name is Oliver Butan," Oliver, the Xelayan one, said. "we are in need of help."

"I am Judas SelaZar," Judas, the Thermian, added. "we are in no position to attack others at this time. And this is our colleague," the gray theme unusual alien individual bowed their head. "Langston De-Ogch of Dratch."

"What seems to be the problem?" Teres asked.

"We are in a argument regarding refugees that wish to come over to  Xelaya over Dratch's humanitarian crisis," Judas explained. "we are normally able to resolve our conflicts but the Klingons and Romulans have been making it difficult. They are currently engaged in a never ending war."

"I think I can help with that," Teres said.

"We are all ears," Langston said.

"First,  I would like to speak with you aboard this ship," Teres said. "I will welcome you in the transporter room."

"Vulcan commanding a vessel and no officers filling it?" Oliver asked, skeptically. "Are you a private citizen?"

"I am speaking  for everyone when I say that Vulcan is not interested in war to resolve conflicts," Teres said. "I am."

"We will be over in ten minutes," Judas said.

The screen turned to the vastness of space. Teres relaxed. It slowly dawned on the woman on what she had done. She was preparing to go into war.  Fully prepared to end a senseless war. What had she done? It was the logical route to go. It was the only to end it. She came over to the captain's chair then pressed on several buttons. There was a tradition in the old stories regarding the starship Enterprise. The captain reciting to no one in particular of what was going on. Apparently, he had been making his captain's log. The logs made the events so causal and mundane in the way the information had been delivered as though it happened all the time. She pressed a gray button.

"Captain's log recording," the computer announced.

"Acting captain's log," Teres began. "We have stolen a starship with a working emergency medical hologram and declared war on both the Klingons and the Romulans. How we will get out of this situation is beyond me. How I wake my brother up defying what sleeping like a rock means will be critical. A historian majoring in battles and tactics used will be useful in this war. However I wage it, people may die or not depending what it is. I find it difficult that I am willing to help another species by interfering in a war. It is against the prime directive to interfere in another culture that has yet to reach warp drive. They have reached it. But is it really just of me to interfere in their conflicts? End log." she pressed the button and it stopped glowing. She got out of the captain's chair then headed for the turbo lift.

* * *

Garen's eyes slowly opened to see his sister above him with her hands on the side of his face. She carefully slid her fingers off back over over to her back. Garen slid himself up on the bed looking  at his sister who was was in uniform. Gone were the PJ's that seemed to be  a dark two-piece outfit with YORK at the center in white font. She was in science blues and her hair seemingly in a unique complicated hair style.

"How did you wake me up?" Garen asked. He looked at Teres, bewildered.

"Mind meld," Teres said.

"Oh dear, T'Karen taught you to do a mind meld. . ." Garen said.

"She is a skilled mind melder," Teres said.

"THE mind meld," Garen repeated.

"Yes," Teres stepped back locking her hands together against her back.

"Remember the Pa'nar syndrome? She might not be properly trained!" Garen said. "Do you feel all right?" He sat on the edge of the bed looking up toward her. "The Klingon mind-shifter was inspired off a properly done mind meld," she knelt down toward her brother clenching his his larger hands. "you might be suffering it without knowing."

"She was trained properly, brother," Teres said. "I am fine." Garen looked at his sister in the eye.

"What seems to be the trouble?" Garen asked.

"We need to help a couple of alien species," Teres said.

"And we might need to return for the thief to get directions to get home," Garen said.

"We are in a pickle," Teres said.

"A very slippery, problematic pickle," Garen said.

"Indeed," Teres nodded. Garen looked down in the direction of their hands.

"What kind of help do they need?" he looked up from his hands toward her.

"We may need to interfere in a war," Teres said.

"A war?"  Garen said. "Sister, we don't have back up. We can get destroyed. All of this history," he gestured around the room. "even the doctor, _destroyed_."

"I was thinking of the Romulan Cloaking device," Teres said.

"We can't use cloaking devices, it's part of the Pegasus incident," Garen said. "Out of the question. A full scale planetary . . ." Garen stopped. ". . . we don't have a planet that they can trace us back to."

"Exactly," Teres said.

"What kind of war are we waging?" Garen asked. "Visible? Invincible? How are we going to get their attention?"

Teres grew a wide, thin smile in return that was terrifying.

"We give them the Vulcan hello," Teres said.

* * *

The three alien individuals appeared on the transporter padd.  Garen's jaw went slack as he saw them for what they were. He looked over toward his sibling half in shock and half in surprise. Each of the three had two security officers flanking their sides. The uniforms were starkly different compared to each other. The Thermians were in light gray uniforms with shoulder padds that had rank. Langston was in a green shirt with a black neck collar that had a braided rank on the sleeves while the security officers were in orange variation. Oliver was in long robes, fancy that seemed monk like at first glance that had long draping sleeve cuffs blended together in front of the chest. The Xelayans officer had a unique pattern on their two piece outfits. Judas bowed placing a fist on to the side of his chest.

"Greetings," Judas said.

"This is a surprise," Oliver said. "I never seen a transporter room like this. I have only seen something like this in the history padds."

"It looks .  . ." Langston stopped seeing a warning sign on the wall. "Accurate."

"Because it is a historical piece," Teres said, earning a head turn by the three representatives. "we stole it."

"Which one of you is the captain?" Judas asked.

"I am the first officer and she is the captain," Garen said.

"No, I am the first officer and he is the captain," Teres said.

"Don't argue with me," Garen said.

"Ooohh, I will argue with you because this requires a tactician," Teres said. "and I am not a tactician."

"It was your idea," Garen said. He turned toward the group, irritated.  "Look, we're both going to be busy at different stations. Niether of us are going to be in the captain's chair and we don't need to be in a pointless argument about whose captain!" the three representatives raised their eyebrows while Langston tilted his head. Garen straightened his uniform then directed himself toward the group. "We're the only ones aboard this ship. We have one doctor."

"We can staff your ship," Oliver said.

"Not acceptable," the siblings said.

"We are not going to risk the lives of your people for peace," Garen said, firmly.

"We are going to risk our lives," Teres said. She took a small object from her pocket then handed it to Judas. "Here is Doctor McCoy."

"Doctor McCoy?" Judas raised an eyebrow.

"A good doctor," Teres said. "the last of the humans. The last holographic representation. If we don't make it. . ."

"You can keep him and perhaps learn from the mistakes that humanity made," Garen finished. "Right this way," he gestured toward the door with a polite smile. "We have a lot to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S'-Tuach'KLa Quch=Information graphic.
> 
> PaSDi=Thingy
> 
> Mao-Kin=Sister.
> 
> Nao-kin=Brother


	3. Chapter 3

The Klingons were firing on a Romulan space craft chasing it through space. The space between Xelaya and Dratch were empty, oddly enough, but it was largely ignored. The Romulan Bird-Of-Prey suffered a blow to one of its wings. The Klingon Bird-of-prey stopped in is tracks. They looked through the energy readings to determine if they were not alone. The Romulans fired back at the Klingons knocking a blow to the side as two other Klingon vessels fired back. Suddenly three phaser strikes struck the Romulan vessel making it explode in a blast of light. The phaser strikes struck one of the Klingon bird-of-prey destroying in a spectacular flare of light. The Klingon vessel spelled out several smaller versions of itself from behind as the vessel fired back.

The ship decloaked revealing the true attacker and gave several blasts to the Klingon's hull.

With one final blast, the Klingon bird-of-prey exploded leaving few survivors in its destruction.

The scene panned into the Yorktown.

"We've done it," Garen said, sitting at the navigator's station.

"This is just the beginning to peace," Teres said.

"Father is going to be so proud of us," Garen said. "mainly you."

"We just killed a couple dozen people," Teres said. "I am sure he is not going to be happy about that."

"Father will understand," Garen said, reaching out placing a hand onto her shoulder. Their tails were situated on the edge of the seat. He took out a photograph from his pocket placing it onto the station that magnetized to it faced toward the view screen. "I can't believe I forgot to add them before we did it."

"There is always next time they can watch," Teres said.

The ship rattled from side to side.

"Looks like we got one last Romulan vessel to take care of," Garen said, plotting the course to turn the ship around.

Teres pressed on the light gray buttons for the powering up phasers.

"Ready," Teres started, as the ship turned in the direction of the bird of prey. "Aim. . ." She pressed a orange button. On the screen there was a locked aim on the firing bird of prey. The gray button glowed steadily.

"Fire!" Garen said.

Teres pressed the light gray button near to her right hand. The phasers fired back drilling a large hole into the bird of prey's neck slicing it in half until it came to a circular stop at the center. A loud explosion rocked the Yorktown from side to side and the siblings eyes were closed. When their eyes opened once more, all there was left was scrap metal and corpses flying in space. Teres stood up from the station then darted over to the science station. She read the number of life signs and energy signatures nearby. Garen leaned back into the chair with his hands locked behind his neck. Teres turned away from the station, calm and composed, in the direction of her brother.

"There is no more energy signatures," Teres said.

"Think they got our message," Garen said, with a wink.

"I am sure the Klingons got it," Teres said. "Romulans may call this as a joint attack to corner them."

"Sister," Garen said, straightening himself in the chair. "It has been eighty thousand years, the Romulans probably do not think that way anymore."

"Vulcans are still around," Teres said. "they are still the same."

"Because they are a peaceful long lasting society," Garen said. "empires cannot last for thousands of years."

"The Roman Empire lasted for one thousand five hundred years," Teres said.

"Which makes my point," Garen said. "they have a different mind set compared to the Klingons. Might be a republic."

Teres came over to the communications station to see the highlighted damaged section.

"The great experiment," Teres said. "lasted for three hundred years."

"Less than the Roman Empire's downfall," Garen said. "that fell apart because of captains who screwed up. Much as T'Karen has said."

"We need to get this into a space dock for repairs," Teres said.

Garen stood up coming over to his sister side.

"How much damage does the ship have?" Garen asked.

"No hull breaches, fortunately," Teres said. "we only have damaged decks. Maybe a few jefferie tubes are out. Phaser burns might be seen on the saucer section from the outside."

"We got battle scars," Garen said.

"Precisely," Teres said, earning a smile from her brother.

"I will hail Dratch Central Command and inform Mr De-Ogch of the successful mission," Garen said. "and you get to make another captain's log." he waved his index finger at the woman.

The camera turned toward the photograph. Their father, T'Palet, was a hybrid who was a Klingon-Cardassian hybrid alongside his much  taller wife who was a Klingon-Vulcan hybrid. The mother was Teferice. Their foreheads were touching as they stood side to side holding hands. Teferice had one hand on the back of the man's head.  She had broad shoulders compared to his slender shoulders and slim frame. The sides of her neck were covered with a long, dull colored scarf that complimented her dark skin. They were doing the _anshwar_ , an intimate act between Cardassians showing that they trusted each other with their lives. The only exception for the photograph was that the hand wasn't supposed to be clenching the head.  The camera moved toward Teres who came over to the captain's chair then placed a hand onto the arm rest. She flipped a switch and then there was the computer's chirp.

 **Acting Captain's log 2:** _we have succeeded in ending a conflict between Dratch-Xelaya space. The Yorktown is damaged and in need of repairs. We have not thought ahead regarding the repairs before the plan was set in motion. We are in the orbit of Dratch awaiting a refugee ship. We are planning to escort the refugees to Xelaya. The first run will have the attention of Dratch and Xelayan. There are likely concerns the war will rear its head up in our business. We will do all that we can to make sure they get there safely. Time will only tell how the Vulcan Hello faired. End Log._

* * *

From the largest telescope that was on New Thermia, McCoy was allowed to see how the trip was going. He watched the ship slowly making its way in space escorting the two vessels. McCoy looked out toward space in disbelief that he was seeing a peaceful mission go along well.  He peered back into the telescope. He saw the damage on the ship from the battle that had been waged. He stepped aside to stare off in disbelief. For a Enterprise, he would have expected the success. The Yorktown was known to be historic for losing and not being as successful as typical starships. It was so unsuccessful that Star Fleet commissioned the Starbase Yorktown be built in the place that it had been immobilized by an ion storm and had a warp breach.

The Starbase Yorktown, according to his files, indicated it still stood.

The Thermian scientists were looking out of the large telescope.

It was unbelievable.

The chances should have been against that.

They should have been destroyed by numerous back up and not stood a chance.

It was odd that the Yorktown had came back out of it. Let alone with damage. It was odd how the Romulans and Klingon warbirds had been destroyed without back up arriving. If McCoy were human, he would believe that this was carefully orchestrated. Which would dishearten Garen and Teres that someone was plotting around them and likely against what they wanted. He shook his head. It was a paranoid train of thought. For all things were considered, McCoy was impressed. Through and through. He went over to the computer nearby the table. He had to get the information regarding the physiology of the Thermians. He had to see how much had changed in the past eighty thousand years. His eyes trailed on the screen going from side to side then up and down. Thermians had not changed that much. They were still designed with the physical aesthetic of octopuses. Large eyes that bore oddly into the eyes of whoever stared at them. He looked up the history of New Thermia. There were close to a million of pages that had to be read.

"I can't believe it . . . No Klingons, no Romulans, not a fight at all," Estonia said.  "Mr Karzus."

"I knew this would happen, eventually," Karzus said. "we are heading in the direction of peace with our neighbors."

"Perhaps the Vulcans will be more friendly now that we have the little problem dealt with," Estonia said.

"Vulcans not friendly?" McCoy turned from the computer. "What did ya do to them?"

"We did nothing," Karzus said. "We share a mining planet but that is about it."

"And do ya let them use it?"  McCoy asked.

"They want to put a science facility there," Estonia said. "the planet doesn't have  an environment capable of construction."

"Yet there are miners which means there is a station on the planet," McCoy said. "Obviously, ya holdin' a grudge over them for somethin' clearly."

"They lied to us," Karzus said, darkly.

"What is so bad about that?" McCoy asked, coming back over toward the two individuals.

"You see lies lead us near to extinction," Karzus said. McCoy nodded in agreement. "You are familiar to Sarris the awful."

"Yes, yes, yes," McCoy said. "An enemy that conquered many planets until his mysterious death."

"It wasn't mysterious," Karzus said. "Certainly not."

"There are no files regardin' his death," McCoy said, as Estonia joined Karzus's side.

"Commander Peter Quincy Taggart killed him at what humans called a Galcon," Estonia said. "Captain of the NSEA Protector, NTE-3120." 

". . . A Galaxy Convention," McCoy said. 

"Why would someone hold a group attendance over galaxies?" Estonia asked.

It clicked. No wonder Taggart sounded familiar. Taggart was portrayed by Jason Nesmith. Taggart wasn't a real man.

"Ah, I can see why ya don't like lies," McCoy said, then returned to his reading.

* * *

The Protector docked with New Thermia's space station. Dratch was still holding a ongoing celebration that lasted for the better part of a week. Xeleyans had thrown a national party that lasted for two days regarding the end of the conflict featuring Klingons and Romulans in their territories. The dawn of a new space age had arrived. Hopeful. Garen and Teres stared at the view screen sharing their own little smiles. Garen looked over toward his sister with pride spelled across his face. She looked down toward the navigational station placing her fingers onto the buttons lightly. Teres sighed, contently. She pressed on the buttons to the station with ease knowing which went where. The docking port locked in with the space station with the door clamps hanging on tightly to the edges of the door. She looked over toward her sibling.

"Are you ready?" Garen asked.

She lowered her gaze.

"We spent a week in space escorting a vessel to a planet," Teres said. She shook her head in disbelief. "I shouldn't be the paranoid one."

"Hey," Garen said. "that's my job, sis."

Tees nodded.

"It is," She traced her fingers along the console.  She began to turn away from Garen away from the console. "Let's pick up our resident doctor."

"Sister," Garen said, concerned with one hand on her shoulder slightly shifted in her direction. "you know his program is a short term one, right?"

"Oh," Teres said. "well," she straightened her pose. "That poses a problem."  She turned toward him as he let go of her shoulder.

"It's not a problem," Garen said. "you have to abide his request. It is ethical. And above all, logical."

"I will do it when they make me captain," Teres said. "Which I doubt. You do it."

"No, I was his patient," Garen said. "You are the only member from our company, who wasn't the patient, who is still around."

"T'Karen activated him first," Teres said. "She should do it."

"Who we can't find," Garen said. "You must do it."

"I shall," Teres said. "You have sound logic."

"Don't weasel out of this," Garen said. "Because if you do, I will know."

"Brother, we're in a war," Teres reminded him. "You won't know everything unless you were a admiral or ships counselor."

"Bartender," Garen corrected.

"Bartenders are not licensed star fleet officers," Teres said.

"And they still acted as counselors," Garen said. "The stories say they were. Besides, this CMO is our resident bartender."

"Time will only tell," Teres said. "After you, brother."

Garen was the first to walk toward the doors. Teres followed after. The siblings came into the turbo lift. They turned in the direction of the bridge. Teres had her hands linked behind her back. The turbo lift doors closed on the two. The door reopened to the corridor of a hall. Teres walked in the lead ahead of Garen in the direction of the docking doors. The two siblings made their way down the docking hall arriving to Judas joined by two security officers in odd uniforms from earlier. Except there was a addition. Instead of the badge that had a planet with rings around it and stars decorating from top to bottom in a different direction there was the star fleet delta. Teres came to a stop across from Judas. Garen stopped alongside her.

"For so long, we have greeted others with a salute from the documentary Galaxy Quest," Judas said. "how does the salute go in the federation?"

Teres held her hand out.

"Historical stories say we shake hands when welcoming new civilizations to the federation," Teres said. "Star Fleet as a whole does not have a salute. It is unnecessary."'

Judas's eyes glowed.

"I am welcomed to be a part of Star Fleet," Judas said.

"Actually, you're joining the government that is the United Federation of Planets," Garen explained. "Star Fleet is a organization that handles the operations of the fleet. Star Fleet are explorers in the unknown,” Judas grew a smile. “and we’re going to get into that after the war is over.” Garen waved, apologetically, over his sister’s shoulder.

“We can accept that,” Judas said. “Thank you for your help.”

Teres’s eyes had a warming gaze in them as she casted her eyes upon the Thermian representative. The Thermians appearance generators turned off. Their appearance sizzled in a blue light like a bad, small square television set switching channels  with a bad glitch. Leaving Judas, the center Thermian, a purple cephalopods like being between two blue cephalopods. Judas wrapped a tentacle out to the extended hand then let go of  Teres’s hand leaving the holo-emitter in the woman’s hand. Teres looked down in the direction of the object set in the middle of her wet palm. She looked back up in the three alien individual's direction, confident.

"You are welcome," Teres said. "we got more ships to help in this war effort. You know the Vulcans?"

"Discreetly," Judas said.

"They're going to help end the war," Teres said.

"On the behalf of my sister," Garen said, coming alongside his sister. "I give you my word."

"Klingons always keep their word," Teres said. "you can trust us."


	4. Chapter 4

"Can you believe that we have welcomed a new member into the federation?" Teres asked, pacing back and forth across from the transporter padd.

"I can," Garen said, leaned against the transporter console. "History won't be kind with us." Teres shot a glare toward her brother.

"We'll be remembered as historians who did what they had to do," Teres said.

"We shall be remembered as thieves," Garen said. "dishonorable thieves."

"Being a thief has some honor in it, brother," Teres faced her sibling. "thieves don't kill."

"Ah please, don't use the Klingon definition of honorable thief in this argument," Garen said.

"Because there is no honor among thieves?" Teres asked.

"That's the accepted standard wording," Garen said.

"It's eighty thousand years from that time," Teres said. "we can rewrite the perception history may have on us by defining ourselves as thieves. What we are doing right now . . ." she gestured toward the transporter padd. "That is clearly a rewrite of what a thief would do."

Garen sighed.

"A thief would sell or hide their loot," Garen said. "you're right about that. . . but we used our last torpedo on the Romulan/Klingon conflict."

"Yes," Teres said, with a nod. "Which is why you will contact Vulcan High Council about getting new torpedoes."

"I am not sure Vulcans will go through with it," Garen said. "They are pacifists."

"They fight when they have to," Teres said. Garen briefly closed his eyes with  a nod. She was right. "they are armed when it is needed. I am sure they still make torpedoes."

"They have access to everything," Garen said. "perhaps they still do make them."

"Exactly," Teres said, as the transporter sound came on from across the two. The sibling's attention turned on the forming figure on a rounded glass center.  Langston took shape as energy forming on the pad gaining color other than a shade of blue and grew solid. The light blue standard color vanished replaced by bright colorful shades. Langston was in a type of attire that was different from the last time they had seen him. The siblings straightened becoming professional. "Mr De-Ogch, welcome aboard."

"What brings you here, mister?" Garen said, curiously.

"I have been given permission to request that my planet join this 'alliance' that you are forming," Langston said.

"Federation," Teres corrected. She walked forward toward Langston. "United Federation of Planets." Then came to a stop in front of the transporter padd.

"Can we join this federation?" Langston asked.

"Of course," Teres said, then she reached her hand out for Langston. "Welcome to the federation."

Langston looked toward Teres's hand then approached and returned the hand shake. We see a similar scene happen with Oliver who seemed pleased then the camera panned over Teres's shoulder changing the scene to the bridge with colors fading dimming from their glowing aesthetic to the lack of lens flares. Garen sat in a chair with the communicator device in his right ear slouched in the chair with an elbow on the edge of the console. Garen sighed then stretched his arms out. Things were going out great so far. Three planets had joined the infant renewal of the federation. If only their planet could be brought into it. They hadn't achieved warp drive, yet. Perfectly content with the way things were run and sky orbiting for fun. They couldn't go back to their homeworld. Teriste would never see that she was wrong. People who called Star Fleet a hoax, a myth, and a fictional story never would find out that they were wrong. It was disappointing. He leaned back into the chair straightening himself up.

Garen read the padd. If they were putting ranks in and everything including their medical information, they needed to fill in the species bracket. The Vahawklins, but for the generalized more precise name, they were the Vahawkliempens. Viewed as hybrids. There was a lot of history to input into the computer regarding his species history. Discoveries were being made every day regarding the ancestors of Vahawklin on the planet Vahawk. He had intricate memory so taking care of history orally wouldn't be a problem. Garen wasn't a doctor so he could not speak for the biology of his species. Doctor McCoy could upload the information to the computer after scanning his internal physiology. He sighed then typed in the shortened version of the species name. 

The three newly joined planetary members  were set to vote in a few hours, as suggestions, of what the siblings rank should be. Garen was in a rankless variation of the uniform suite. It was the only fair way to decide. He rubbed both of his temples. Garen didn't know how to contact a specific planet  thousands of light years away. Let alone finding a button that sent the call.  He knew which button to start hailing a ship or a starbase. Garen randomly pressed buttons. Perhaps the Vulcan's had a manual for using the communication's station. Surely, they likely did. He heard a  chime like sound in his ear from pressing a random button.

"USS Yorktown to Vulcan High Council, we are in need of torpedoes," Garen paused, considering, thoughtfully what else to say. "The United Federation of Planets is coming back and we are more than happy to welcome you in. If you'll need help, we'll give it."

Garen pressed the button ending the signal then cracked his knuckles and took out the ear bud.

* * *

Garen and Teres were sitting in the conference room to the Yorktown looking through padds of individuals familiar with various subjects that would be needed for the war. The English on the padds were very precise and clear with names that had been roughly translated. Garen leaned against the chair rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Teres placed the padd down then took out the holo-emitter. She was in Command Gold while her sibling was still in his red uniform with the band ranking  of a commander on his sleeves. The three rounded pips were attached easily to the fabric. Teres looked over in the direction of Garen.  Then back in the direction of the holo-emitter. Even though McCoy was in a holo-emitter with infinite room, his hologram was created not to be used as much as a average person would be. She didn't know how to remove a selective memory from a holo-emitter. This technology was beyond her comprehension. She stood up from the chair.

"I am taking McCoy back to sick bay," Teres announced.

"Oh?" Garen said, looking over. "I thought you had done that earlier. After I sent the call." Teres stopped in her tracks. Garen looked at the woman in concern folding his arms against his chest.

"Du'Dej t'-s' nak'haught," Teres said.

"T'e calum hurch-wurch," Garen said.

"T' Burcho-kalto," Teres said.

"Cal-tor wuakito kranchutuem," Garen said. His hands were laid on the table switching to standard as he stood up.  "Do you want that?"

"Nar-kal," Teres replied, then she walked out of the conference room leaving Garen.

Teres strode through the corridor. She was conflicted as a historian, a  captain, and her moral values. Removing the doctors memories was the equivalent of murder. Removing all of them since discovering that he was eighty thousand years from the time of Star Fleet. His personal memories purged away and what was left cleaned up from the computer. She was obligated, as the captain, to follow through with the request of a crew member. As a historian, she was obligated to preserve and save history. She was in a tense demeanor. Teres sighed, relaxing herself. She slowly took out the holo-emitter fiddling with its exterior in her fingers sliding it from hand to hand. Teres came into sick bay. The doors closed behind her. Teres closed her eyes, tightly then reopened them. She walked over to the nurses head desk where she placed the holo-emitter.

"Computer," Teres said. "Connect with holo-emitter. Password: Vulcansucc. No 'k', just two 'c's."

"Computer connected," the computer said.

"Computer," Teres began. "Delete information regarding serving with T'quch D'cho Teres, daughter of T'Palet, house of Teferice. And T'quch D'cho Garen, son of T'Palet, house of Teferice. Update Thermian information in the Star Fleet library using historical memory gathered. Delete any personal memories that Emergency Medical Hologram, Mark  Seven, had made after being activated to treat Mister Garen's wounds." Teres briefly paused. "Delete information regarding T'Karen. "

There was a series of beeps.

"Deletion completed," the computer said.

Teres sat down into the chair then placed a hand onto her forehead appearing to be upset.

"Computer," Teres said. "change short term program to long term."

"Program changed," the computer chirped.

"Computer, change file name to long term medical holographic program,'," Teres said. "Mark seven."

"Settings changed," the computer said.

"Computer, terminate connection," Teres said, then lowered her hand and cupped them together.

The computer chirped.

"Terminated," The computer said.

Teres winced her eyes closing them then straightened herself and walked out of the room.

* * *

There was a selective lottery among New Thermia to let in esteemed knowledgeable and intelligent individuals majoring in science, nursing, navigation, and piloting. It was narrowed down to one hundred officers. Fifty officers to be chosen from Xelaya if possible for security.Then fifty more officers from Dratch for the engineering. It was honoring, let alone for a highly esteemed Thermian who studied astronomy to be sent out into space.  Estonia had applied for the nursing program. Estonia had met a holographic version of a human. Not real, but never the less, human. Estonia stepped aboard the vessel alongside her new crewmates. Estonia was ranked as an ensign as was everyone in the group. There were gasps from around the woman. They were in recently rolled out light blue uniforms. Gone were the classic gray uniforms that came in various styles. Gone were the light gray boots. The figure fitting outfits were tight and exact. Her blue eyes gazed sweeping the corridor in both directions as she stepped forward. A strange, unusual man came into the corridor with a bright, friendly smile and open demeanor.  His hands were linked behind his back. He wore sunglasses that were tinted. The large came to a pause in front of the officer.

"I am first officer Garen," Garen held his hand up making a split between his fingers. "Welcome to to the Yorktown."

"Commander, where is the captain?" Estonia asked.

"She is not feeling well," Garen said. The doors behind the group closed.

"Oh," came a collective murmur.

"We came across a unusual set of creatures during our voyage to this planet last week," he surveyed the line of individuals. "Including an anomaly or two." he suspiciously eyed the new arrivals.  He gestured the group after him as he walked backwards from them. "They were scanned and collected by the ships instruments." Garen turned away then walked off.

The ensigns shared unsure, puzzled expressions then followed after the Vahawklin.

"So most of your intelligent minds will be used to explain these anomalies," Garen continued. The ensigns boots echoed behind the Vahawklin. "Your instruments may be in the same advancement as your planet if not better than the equipment there. We have left padds with instructions on how to operate the equipment which has taken us trial and error through this week. These are a historical replication of the 23rd century." The corridors were a shade of white that was well lit. They looked around in awe. Several of the ensigns were breath taken by the sight. "The bridge is brighter than it was before."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Du'Dej T'-S' nak'haught=Death is not acceptable. 
> 
> T'e calum hurch-wurch=it his request. 
> 
> T' Burcho-kalto=I can't.
> 
> Cal-tor wuakito kranchutuem=he will malfunction. 
> 
> Nar-Kal=No. Different to Nare-Kal which means know.
> 
> Vahawklin (Pronounced as Va-ha-ack-lyn).


End file.
